


Wanderlust

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bucket List, F/M, Foreign Exchange Student Hermione, HEA, Hermione is having none of this shit, I lied about the angst, Motorcycles, Muggle AU, Probably Only A Light Dusting of Angst This Time, Sorry Not Sorry, Sterotypical Bad Boy Draco and I'm Trash for Him, Tattoos, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-06-05 18:45:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 156,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15176975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: Meet Hermione Granger - An American exchange student who was gifted the opportunity to study abroad in Great Britain in the wake of a personal tragedy. She’s brilliant with a fierce hunger to explore the world and accomplish the bucket list in her luggage, the last thing she ever did with her mother. She expects a distraction, but Draco Malfoy turns her world upside down.





	1. Granger Danger

**Author's Note:**

> I had actually been planning to take the summer off from writing. Let's just laugh about that for a minute. I have a tomione ongoing, but I finished The Red String of Fate, so I didn't have a dramione. Well, half false. I do have a WIP, but it's for the Strictly Dramione summer fest so I can't post it. So. Here. We. Are.
> 
> This was in my list of plunnies to tackle and I sat down, and fell in love with it. And I hope you do too! A few things to take note of: this is a Modern Muggle AU. Are you sensing a theme yet? I quite like them. Hermione is American. She's from the United States, so the Americanisms - they're valid here.
> 
> I didn't have the freedom to explore lemons much in Red String because of what happened to Hermione, but I'm thrilled to say that's not the case here. -slaps hands together- If you'd like to see the several moodboards I made for each character, they're on my tumblr: mrsren96. Putting this out here now, this story is endgame Dramione. So you know, even if I put them through some shit first, that it's endgame.
> 
> Special thank you to CourtingInsanity, who has some stories you should go check out, for looking this over and editing it for me!

 

* * *

_Chapter One: Granger Danger_

* * *

 

 

The day she boarded a plane to cross the Atlantic was the same day she buried her mother.

September was hot even by Oklahoma standards, in which you never knew what weather you would have. Summer was coming to a close, with the leaves starting to turn to crisp reds, and oranges, it was an awful day for a funeral. Though, she supposed, her mother would have liked the weather, having always spent her time in the heat.

From gardening, to swimming, or even just sitting on their front porch with knitting needles in hand. Hermione swallowed, blinking quickly to avoid bursting into tears in the middle of the United Airlines terminal. Her mother had urged her before her passing - they'd known it was coming, had known for over a year - that she needed to seize this opportunity.

Jean Granger had been an intelligent woman, and had long since accepted that her daughter had always wanted to escape the small town she'd been born in. She frequently said that Hermione Granger was made for more than a small town, had been crafted to explore the world, and she had earned the chance to study abroad.

Really, there had been no other applicants that deserved it, but it was Hermione who had at first refused the trip. With the reasoning that she needed to be home with her terminally ill mother, with the crushing guilt that she couldn't leave her mother to go and gallivant around the world.

It was of little surprise when her mother sat her down, brushing her bald head - it was still a habit from before she'd begun chemotherapy- and explained to Hermione that she had perhaps two months to live. The smile never slipped from her face as she told her daughter that she  _would_ board that plane, and she  _would_ attend Oxford University for the next two semesters.

She'd always seen brilliance in Hermione, she said. Stating all of her daughter's accomplishments to every last person in their rinky dink town, and boasted of how her eighteen year old daughter shined the brightest in any room.

Adjusting the strap of her carry on over her shoulder, Hermione looked to her reflection is the clear glass looking to the outside. She didn't see the things her mother bragged about, but she could see how she hadn't slept in weeks, not since her mother had been put on hospice, since the hospital released her.

She'd come home to die.

It was a bitter thing to swallow, that she was leaving for England while her mother's grave wasn't even cold yet.

Handing her plane ticket to the flight attendant, whose million-watt smile exhausted Hermione. She hoped she'd be able to sleep after takeoff. The woman, her name was Rebecca from a look at her name tag, was petite, dressed in a blue and red uniform, completed by a gold necklace lying against the top of her jacket. It was as she was handing the ticket back, that Hermione noticed her wedding ring.

Her eyes widened, "That's a beautiful ring." She commented with a small smile, trying not to look so glum.

Rebecca's smile, who would have thought it possible, widened exponentially. "Thank you!" She gushed, all too eager to thrust her hand out to give Hermione a better look. It was set in a rose gold band, with a raised diamond.

Hermione couldn't pretend she knew much about jewelry to say that she liked the cut of it. The only ring she'd ever owned was the one on her middle finger right now and it had belonged to her mother. "I like the rose gold band," Hermione smiled once more, and it felt like wasted energy to carry on with this pleasantry. "Congratulations."

Hermione stepped inside the plane, taking a peek at her ticket, and shuffling down the aisle to find her seat. Nestled against the window, it was her hope that she wouldn't feel crammed by other passengers. She patted her front pocket to be sure that her cell phone was still there, and pulled a worn copy of  _Jane Eyre_  from her carry on before tucking it away into the overhead cabin.

The flight, which would last nearly eleven hours, was only part of the trip. Between waiting for takeoff, and fighting the baggage claim when she did land, it would last a whopping fourteen hours. She'd accounted for the jetlag, as she'd spend the last several weeks busying herself with facts so she wouldn't cry so much.

Hermione turned airplane mode on in the settings of her cell phone, tucking it back into her pocket. Adjusting herself, she rested her feet, clad in converse she'd had since she was a freshman in high school, on the bottom rung of the seat in front of her. It was pure luck that no one was seated there in the flight, and as the attendants flitted around the cabin, she realized there would be no one sitting beside her either.

Rebecca smiled at her as she walked past, giving her a friendly wave before moving to the front of the cabin and dimming the lights. "Can you still read, sweetheart? I don't want you to strain your eyes."

Hermione nodded, giving her a thumbs up before sinking into her seat, and opening the cover of  _Jane Eyre._ She'd had a few copies through the years, but this one was special to her. With her father passing away overseas when she was young, there weren't many memories of him. Yet this one stayed, probably because her mom had recorded this trip to the bookstore on main street.

At eight years old, Hermione wasn't so sure what she wanted to read. She liked  _Nancy Drew_  the most, but she'd seen her mother looking at this one in the store. The cover hadn't been all that interesting, but if her mom had it, it just  _had_ to be perfect. So, Frank Granger bought it with a low chuckle, asking the owner if he had a pen.

Hermione ran her fingers over the message, scrawled in messy handwriting that her mother dubbed as chicken scratch.  _You're gonna be great, kid. Love you more than you'll ever know. -Dad._

It was simple, accompanied with a smiley face that had one eye higher than the other. Mister Granger hadn't been a man of many words, but he loved his family something fierce, and when they brought him home, Hermione learned of how he'd kept all the letters and drawings they'd mailed him. Sadly, the trip to the bookstore had been the last time she'd ever seen her father alive.

He'd died in Iraq, a victim of a war that Hermione painstakingly watched on the news. He'd been weeks out from his deployment ending, and staying home, and from taking her to swing at the park like he'd promised.

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip harshly, using the pain to distract her from the way she wanted to sob until she had no tears left. She hadn't cried over her father in months, not since the last anniversary of his death.

What a shitty situation to have lost both parents to situations she couldn't control. The logical side of her warred with her emotions, the clear cut guilt that was useless. It wasn't her fault there had been a war, it was her fault that there had been a goddamned bomb. It wasn't her fault that there wasn't a cure for cancer, though she'd nearly dropped her major in favor of medical school.

Everything had been out of her control, and it fucking killed her.

Turning the page, and squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn't see his note to her again, Hermione nearly dropped the book. Sitting there, written in pretty cursive in ink from the pen she  _knew_ her mother kept in her purse, was another note.

Her heart sank. When had she written this? It must have been before she'd been confined to bed rest, before she could hardly move. In the end, Hermione had taken to feeding her mother her meals. How like her it would have been to use up her strength to do this.

_Hermione,_

_I'm fairly certain that by the time you read this, I will be gone. You wouldn't have left no matter how I begged if I were still here. It's a good thing you never wrote your notes on this page, it gave me enough space to write a small letter._

_You are my greatest accomplishment. I'm so proud of you for paving the way to your own success. I know that you weren't allotted as much as your classmates. Still, I've never seen someone so stubborn. If you were told you couldn't do something, you did it anyways and you did it_ well _. You're like your father in that regard; determined, and breaking through each hurtle sat in front of you._

_I love you so much, Hermione. I'm sure there are enough words for me to tell you how thankful I am to have had you as my daughter, but I couldn't string them together if I tried. You're going to love England. I know I've teased you countless times of how you might find a handsome British man and never come home._

_Hermione, home is where you want to make it. I made mine with your father and you._

_Make your home wherever you want. I love you._

_Love, Mom._

_P.S. I put the bucket list we made in your portfolio. Do it, Hermione._

She slammed the paperback shut, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. She hiccuped, a weak broken sound. "Jesus Christ," she muttered, willing herself not to cry.

It would be a long flight indeed.

* * *

 

She'd expected to be exhausted, to be bordering on passing out as she disembarked from the plane. However, it was thanks to a Monster energy drink that she'd chugged, and the wheels meeting the tarmac that she was wide eyed, and grabbing her black carry on. It didn't hold much, some notebooks, a textbook for foreign relations, and her nearly ancient laptop.

She'd meant to use part of her student loans to pay for a newer, lighter model. Then life had seemed to derail, if it was ever on a set track to begin with. The little bit that had been left over she'd used for groceries, and she'd paid two months' worth of utility bills with it.

Hermione pulled a jacket from the front pocket of the small duffle bag. Lucius, the head of the family she would be staying with, had told her to bring one. Though she had no idea what the Malfoy family looked like, she had spoken to Lucius and Narcissa several times on the phone and via email. He hadn't been wrong about needing a jacket, though it was silly for her to question him; he was the one who lived here.

His wife's comment that the weather would be a bit dreary, and it would be raining was correct. Hermione made her way through the corridor with her black knit jacket slung over her shoulder. As she made her way through a throng of people, full of elbows and thick accents, someone yelled her name; well, her surname.

Turning around, she stepped out from beyond the mass of people, peeking around to see anyone who stood out. She glanced over the signs, some of them your typical cliche  _welcome home_  signs, but she didn't see one with her name. Shrugging, she spun on her heel -

-and headbutted an irritated blond, whose jaw was clenched as he stared down at her. "Are you Hermione Granger?" He asked, and she immediately wanted to comment on his accent, but she decided not to so she wouldn't seem the part of a foolish American.

But with the way he was glaring at her, she wanted to say  _no, certainly not. I've never heard of a Hermione Granger. What a silly name, wouldn't you say?_ Alas, she was stubborn, and unable to let some asshole treat her like she was already a nuisance. "I am." She replied, adjusting her bag. "And you are?"

"Draco Malfoy," he told her, rubbing his chin where there was a red mark. "Do you normally not look where you're going, or is that just a fuck up on your part?"

Her eyes narrowed. Lucius and Narcissa had mentioned they had a son, but they hadn't thought to tell her that their spawn was a complete fucking tool. "Do you normally sneak up on people?" She shot back. "As I'm sure you can see, you're supposed to wait elsewhere," Hermione pointed over her shoulder. "What did you expect to happen when you yelled my name? It's obvious that I would turn around."

"Leave her alone, mate." A dark haired boy said, stepping out from behind Malfoy and slapping him on the back. "Forgive him, he's not housetrained. I'm Theo," he offered his hand, and she moved to shake it, only to have her hand kissed.

She arched one eyebrow, but played off her surprise. Looking straight back at the jerk towering over her, she commented "Maybe you should buy him a muzzle then."

His nostrils flared, accompanied by the narrowing of his eyes. They were grey, the sort of grey that reminded her of storm clouds rolling in before it began to pour. "I'm not going to apologize when you're the one who's late." He grumbled. "I've been here for an hour."

Hermione fished her ticket from the back pocket of her jeans, unfolded it and took his hand, shoving the paper into it. "I'm not late." She told him. "It would seem you're early because I'm right on," she pointed to the time, "schedule."

At his right, Theo laughed. "You mum probably told you the wrong time so you wouldn't be late, Malfoy."

He seemed to agree, rolling his eyes, and taking her bag from her. "You're probably correct. Where's your luggage, Granger?"

"My name is Hermione." She muttered, moving past him.

"I'm in the habit of only calling people I like by their first names." The jab rolled right off his tongue, and really, she just wanted to punch him. What a waste of a nice accent on such a dreadful person.

Theo bumped his shoulder against hers. "Don't let him fool you, he's not really this big of an arsehole."

"Perhaps he's overcompensating then." She whispered to him, her chest seeming to lighten when he grinned.

And then there was the fact that her newest adversary dropped her bag so hard she was sure her laptop had just broken.

Fuck.

* * *

 

 

Hermione wasn't sure what she would have expected Draco to look like, but this was the farthest thing from what she'd envisioned. As the lanky blond led her from the airport, catching the door with the heel of one of his Doc Martens, she couldn't help but wish Lucius or Narcissa had picked her up as planned.

Because if she knew anything, her meeting with their son, who was the personification of tall and dangerous, had made it clear that they weren't going to get along. If she hadn't been so angry with how he'd blamed  _her_ for slamming into him, Hermione was certain her mouth might have fallen open. Judging by his arrogance, with the way he raked his fingers through his tousled hair - no, she wasn't checking him out, absolutely  _not -_ as he flashed a smirk as they passed some girl.

She was rambling in her own thoughts - never a good sign. "Thanks," she mumbled to Theo, who took the last suitcase from her hands. He set it in the trunk of the SUV. "Fucking watch out!" Hermione snapped, eyes narrowing on Draco.

She rubbed her shoulder where the corner of the door had met her shoulder. The only consolation was that his eyes were wide with what appeared to be empathy, but she didn't get her hopes up. "You alright?" He asked, his voice low as he took a step closer to her.

"It's fine," she lied through gritted teeth.

"You should have worn a better jacket." He told her, motioning her around the car. "My mother would tell me to give you my coat."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm fine." Hermione stepped backwards quickly, and opened the door, eager to crawl away from him. Shutting her door, she leaned over the leather seats, clutching the back of Theo's seat. Her fingernail polish was chipped."Is there a reason he hates me?"

He chuckled. "He's like that." Theo told her. "You haven't done anything."

She nodded, not particularly believing him at all. "Does it rain often?" Hermione asked quietly, resting her elbows on the center console. She was on the receiving end of a blank stare as Draco climbed inside.

Theo replied over the hum of the engine, turning to face her even though he was restrained by the seat belt. "It rains all the sodding time." He laughed loudly. "What's the weather like in.."

"Oklahoma," she supplied. "And it depends on what day you ask me." Hermione shrugged. "I like the rain though."

Coming to a complete stop, Draco let go of the wheel, foot coming down on the break and shrugging out of the black, wool coat he wore. There was a sharp intake of breath at the sight of his tattoos. "Those look amazing." Hermione wanted to reach out and run her fingers along his forearms, to see what they would feel like.

Swirls of ink decorated both arms, with so many designs that she didn't know where to start. The corner of his mouth quirked up, but he didn't say anything to her as he turned onto the roadway. "Do you have any?" And it was the first civil thing he'd said to her.

She shook her head, but her thoughts wandered to the bucket list that sat amidst her luggage and to number four. "Not yet." Hermione replied. "I haven't had time since I turned eighteen. I couldn't leave my mom for very long."

"If you couldn't leave her, then why are you here? You've just put a couple thousand miles in between the two of you." It was the strangled sound that left her which caused Draco to turn to look at her. "Are you...are you crying?" He asked, but he didn't sound as nearly calm as he appeared.

Theo blinked, reaching out and then yanking his hand back when she pulled away from them. "She died." Her voice was light, airy. "We buried her yesterday, I'm sorry I even mentioned her. I'm normally not so emotional."

Hermione sank into the back seat, fishing around her bag until her fingers closed around a pair of white earbuds. "Granger - " Draco began, but she ignored him, pushing the earbuds in.

The two men in front of her exchanged an uneasy look when she turned the first rock song she found all the way up.

With her hands clasped in her lap, her phone laying beside her, Hermione looked to the city around them in awe. There was something miraculous about the fact that she was even here at all. Laying her head against the window, she was content to watch how storm clouds still seemed to be rolling in, and to take in the architecture of each building.

With the events of the last day, or even the last few weeks, she hadn't had the time to be nervous about visiting another country. The questions that she would have been asking suddenly hit her all at once. What were the people like? Well, judging from the scowl Draco was wearing when she snuck a glance at him, she'd say she'd already crossed paths with the worst.

It felt like a silly thing to worry about when it came to whether people would like her or not. Yet here she was, nearly about to burst because she couldn't help but wonder if she would be regarded as the strange girl, the odd one out really, like it had been in high school.

She was blinking, just for a second, when a hand reached for her from the front seat. She shrieked, slapping it away, but Draco yanked the earbud out of her ear. "Granger, do you need to go home and sleep?"

Home?

"What?" She said dumbly.

"There's a coffee shop not far from here, and our friends want to meet you." Theo said, his smile bright as he patted her arm. "He's sorry about making you upset by the way."

Malfoy ignored the last bit of his sentence completely. "I've no idea why they want to meet you, but you've been on a plane for over half of a day-"

"If there's coffee, I'm more than willing to go." Hermione told him, pulling her jacket around her. "I could use it since I'm going to stay up all night to fix my sleep schedule."

* * *

 

The coffee shop, The Leaky Cauldron she discovered, was a quaint brick cafe. It had tables outside beneath an awning, where all sorts of people sat. Stuffing her phone into her pocket, she climbed out of the car, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket nervously.

It was unfair that her palms were sweaty.

"Let's go, Granger." Malfoy barked, leaving his coat in the vehicle. His boots were heavy against the concrete as he wrenched the glass door open, waiting for her. "Could you move any slower?"

She snapped. "Could you be anymore of a fucking asshole?" Hermione retorted, stepping on his foot for good measure.

"Was that supposed to hurt? Have you seen how small you are?" He was chucking, putting his hand on the small of her back and pressing her forward. "Move it, Princess."

The inside of the coffee shop, furnished with wooden tables and one long bench running along the side of the wall, felt homey. The familiar smell of coffee beans was relaxing, a smell that she could associate with lazy mornings while she sat in the windowsill.

She was too busy looking around the room, her eyes lingering on the fairy lights that hung from the ceiling, to notice someone coming towards her. A finger tapped on her shoulder, and she looked to the right to see a girl, nearly six inches taller than her, but it might have been the combat boots she wore. "I'm Pansy."

Black hair, and it definitely wasn't one of the shitty box dye jobs she'd seen before, was pinned up in space buns. Hermione noted the black choker around her neck; it suited her. "Hermione." She introduced, but she suddenly felt out of place.

"So you've met Draco already," Pansy looked as if she were about to burst into laughter.

Hermione scowled. "I've had the displeasure, yes. Is he always like that, or is it just me that pissed him off?"

Pansy slung her arms around her shoulders, guiding her to a table full of people around her age. "Would anyone here like to tell Hermione that Draco's always had a shite attitude?" She nearly yelled it, heads turning to face them.

Hermione wanted to sink into the floor. "Oh, yeah," one of the boys spoke out. This one with black rimmed glasses, and he also had full sleeves. She was sensing a trend between Malfoy and the company he kept. "Don't take it personally, he's always been like that. I'm Harry." The boy told her, reaching out to shake her hand.

She nodded, willing herself not to make eye contact with the man that was sure to be glaring at her. "Nice to meet you. I'll, uh, be right back." She muttered, ducking out from under Pansy's arm and making her way to the counter.

"What can I get for you?" The barista asked her, leaning forward on the counter. "There's a house special today, if you'd like - " Hermione nodded, pulling what converted money she had from her pocket.

"Sorry, I'm kind of mess right now." She laughed, eyes widening as the girl pushed her money back to her.

"Don't worry about it." She winked, stepping to the side and making her way through a door leading to the back.

"I'm guessing Malfoy's been a prick to you?" Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice, which was raspy, as she turned to see a dark haired man sitting on the stool beside her. "Woah," his hand shot out to steady her, seizing her by the front of her sweatshirt. "Shite, didn't mean to scare you."

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," Hermione gasped, grinning from ear to ear. "Sorry," she seemed to be saying that an awful lot since she'd arrived. "It would seem I'm a bit jumpy. You know Malfoy then?"

He nodded. "I'd say just about anyone at the Leaky knows who he is. I'm Neville." He extended his hand, and she felt a bit more grounded when he shook hers instead of kissing it. "You must be the exchange student he's been talking about?" Neville wore a plain black v neck, and if you'd asked her whether he was friends with Malfoy or not - she'd have told you no. He didn't have a tattoo in sight.

"God," she groaned. "I can only imagine what he's said then."

Neville chuckled. "I promise you it wasn't much. He was complaining that he had to change his plans to pick you up from the airport."

She rolled her eyes. "How well do you know him then?"

He shrugged, smiling at the barista when she slid two mugs across the countertop. "Thanks, Angelina. I know Malfoy about as well as I know a stranger out on the street. Well," he paused. "I suppose I know of him more than anything. Anyone who comes here would know that though. He's loud."

_And abrasive,_ she added silently.

Hermione nodded, looking at the leaf Angelina had made across the top of her coffee. "Well, in any case I guess it's nice to see that not everyone is a tool like him." She muttered. "He's not the best welcome committee."

"Could have been worse, he could have made you cry." Silence, followed by his eyebrows shooting nearly into his hairline. "You're not serious. He made you cry?" His voice was loud, and a sudden silence fell over them, and she couldn't bring herself to turn around.

It wasn't as if she wanted to acknowledge the person who was glaring at the back of her head.

She stirred her coffee with a tiny black straw, effectively destroying the design. She looked sheepishly to the barista; Angelina, she reminded herself. "I mean, it's not so much that he made me cry on purpose."

"Would you mind terribly if I asked you what happened?" Neville took a small drink, lifting the maroon mug to his lips.

"He asked me why I'd left my mom if I didn't want to. And the truth is that she just passed away, and I left for my flight after the funeral. He didn't know."

His eyes widened, warm, and amber, as he looked down at her. "Bloody.."

Hermione would have to imagine what he would have said next, since a loud yelp rang throughout the shop. She spun in her stool, watching with a tilted head as Pansy, and two other girls, rushed towards the window. "What happened?" She asked Neville, and his arm came to rest on her shoulder as he pointed it out to her.

"It looks like that arsehole stole that old lady's purse." He told her grimly, grasping his mug once more.

Her attention was focused on the boy, she assumed, that was clutching a bag close to his chest while he ripped his hood into place. Her fingers tightened against the counter.

"Then why is no one helping her?" Hermione didn't mean for her voice to be so loud, nor did she mean to draw the attention of every last patron.

However, that's exactly what she hopped out of her seat without a second thought and sprinted towards the door, the bells chiming in close succession. There was a loud yell of someone emitting her surname, because that was seemingly all Draco would call her.

The air of Great Britain was brisk as it met her face, and she refused to look at the glass window where a crowd had gathered. It was mere seconds after her "Hey!" that the door of the coffee shop slammed open. Not bothering to look over her shoulder, she shoved past someone who she'd nearly toppled over.

"Oi! Watch where the fuck you're going!" The man brushed off his suit, and the only consolation for Hermione was the loud expletive that left him - probably from whoever had chased after her plowing into him.

The kid, she assumed it was a teenager, sprinted across an intersection, throwing a glance over his shoulder to see that she was still chasing him. Hermione jumped over the puddles she could, and when she slid across the hood of a car, it hadn't been intentional.

Her legs burned, and running against icy rain was at the bottom of her list of things she'd rather be doing. Who knew if she would even find the old woman who'd had her purse snatched? Hermione ran in front of a car, an oversight, before jumping out of the way. Heavy footfalls were right behind her.

When she finally caught up to him, with the mugger being an arm's length away from him, Hermione lunged for him. Headbutting strangers was becoming a habit she thought, as her forehead slammed into the back of his skull.

Her elbow met the concrete hard, and there was a loud crack that made her whimper in pain. "Come here, you asshole." She hissed, latching onto his jacket from where she'd been laid out on her back. It was not the best move she'd ever made, since his hand, mostly the heavy ring on his index finger, bloodied her nose.

"Give me the fucking handbag." Malfoy snarled, leaning over her mostly, and rolling the guy onto his back. Pressing the bottom of his boot against the kid's sternum, Hermione attempted to tell him not to be so rough. "Here," he snapped, applying more pressure than needed on the boy's chest, and tossing Hermione the black handbag. "If I look inside of that, will anything be missing?"

Her eyes were still watering as there was a gurgled reply next to her. "You're kind of harsh," she heard herself say.

Looking every part of his stereotype, Draco glared down at her as if he wanted nothing more than for her to be the one under his boot. "You're batty." He growled, offering his hand as if it were the last thing he wanted to do. "He could have broken your nose and you want to tell me that I was too harsh on him?"

Hermione hissed when he tried to pull her to her feet. She'd made the mistake of attempting to use the arm she was sure she had broken. "Oh, fuck," she mewled, grabbing her elbow. "I probably broke it."

He glared at her. "You've got to be kidding me. What were you thinking?  _Were you even thinking?_ " Malfoy yelled at her, yanking her up by her other arm. "Do you normally sprint after strangers? I lost count of how many cars almost hit you." His chest rose and fell with each word, each of them louder than the last.

"No one was helping her!" She screamed at him, standing on her tiptoes to get as close to eye level with him as she could manage. Her next mistake was to throw her arms out in exasperation, white pain shooting up her arm. "It was better than just standing there!"

His friends were rushing towards the pair of them. She recognised Pansy and Harry, with Theo not too far wall Hermione could do to keep her eyes on her soaking wet shoes. "You should have worn a better coat." He sighed.

"You're not wearing one either." Hermione pointed out, but he didn't comment on that. "I'm not sorry for chasing after him."

"You're ridiculous." He dragged his hand down his face, his eyes closing before looking down at her again, this time he seemed just a bit softer. "I doubt you broke your arm."

"Somehow, that doesn't make it feel any better." Locking her right arm across her midriff, she clutched her elbow tightly. The pressure helped.

"That was," Harry yelled, twirling Pansy as they walked, "the best bloody thing I have ever seen."

"For fuck's sake, don't encourage her." Malfoy growled.

"We were debating," Theo shrugged his coat off, stepping behind her to let it rest on her shoulders, "of a nickname for you while you were with Longbottom. And Harry's thought of a perfect one."

She arched an eyebrow, fairly certain her attempt at nonchalance failed. "What would that be?"

Harry came to her side, raising his hands as if she could see anything beyond the storm clouds rolling into England. "Imagine - "

"Has anyone ever told you how dramatic you are?" Hermione asked, forgetting about the pain long enough to smile when everyone laughed.

"Oh, you have no idea." Pansy snorted, holding her sides from laughter.

"Granger Danger," Harry finished.

"Huh," she said. "You know, I don't think I've ever had a nickname. Well, at least not one I approved of." Hermione told him.

"You like it?" Harry asked her.

After a second, she nodded. As it was, she could have made a list of the mistakes she'd made thus far, within an hour and a half.

High fiving Harry with her bad arm was at the top. And  _of course_  that was when Malfoy smiled.

* * *

 


	2. Traitorous Colonials and Harbor Threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to be good, and spread my updates out, but I’m uber impatient. And Courting Insanity told me to do it so… This is the part where I would tell you I have a strict update schedule, but that would be a terrible lie. It is my goal to update all my stories once a week, but if I don’t I usually update within two. If I continue to make these so long, I’d wager it’d be two weeks.
> 
>  
> 
> I am so blown away by the amount of subscriptions, kudos, and comments! Thank you so much for giving me a chance to give you something to read! I thrive of self validation, and my birthday is on the twelfth if you want to give me comments for my… blackmail probably isn’t okay.
> 
>  
> 
> Please enjoy! I laughed quite a bit during this chapter and we can thank otterlyardent for the harbor line, because it is amazing.

 

_ Chapter Two: Traitorous Colonials and Harbor Threats _

* * *

  
  


Sitting in the car with Draco alone set her on edge, and the silence threatened to swallow her up. Reaching for the display between them, she slowly twisted the knob to the right. “You like them too?” She asked hesitantly, and his only reply was to nod. 

 

After leaving the Leaky Cauldron, and Theo she was sad to say, who acted as a buffer between her and the man driving, he’d taken her to St. Mungos. The hospital had been a tall building, one that made her heart drop just to look at, and she almost,  _ almost _ , broke her silence to beg him not to make her step inside. Hermione told herself that she wasn’t a child; she reminded herself that was twenty one years old, but when the stench of antiseptic made her wretch, he’d at least been polite enough not to say anything. 

 

Her arm wasn’t broken, but it felt like her elbow had cracked in multiple places. She laid her head against the seat belt, locking and unlocking her phone while she looked at the wallpaper of her mother. 

 

“This is it,” he told her, and she glanced up to see him slowing down, driving with one hand on the wheel. 

 

The Malfoy home was the size of a hotel that had been near her house, and she unbuckled her seat to lean forward. He pumped the brakes, sending her forward, but he didn’t say a word to her. 

 

Several thousand miles away, her home was a simple brick house with crisp white shutters that she’d helped paint when she was twelve. There was a tiny corner she’d forgotten to paint that still annoyed the shit out of her to this day. She thought longingly of that place, of the bedroom she’d had for the entirety of her life, which still had a poster for a boy band that she hadn’t loved in years. 

 

This wasn’t home - at least not yet. She couldn’t call it a house; she might have called it a mansion had she been in the United States...in fact she  _ had,  _ only to be immediately corrected by Draco’s rough voice. It was manor, if she wanted to be technical, but for all intents and purposes, this would be her home now too. For a year at least. 

. 

Folding her arms across her chest, taking the time to be extra careful with her elbow, she remained silent. Malfoy Manor was massive, and she somehow doubted she’d ever get used to coming home to it. She commented quietly that it was beautiful, and he told her not to mention it to his mum unless she wanted to hear about a century’s worth of history. 

 

He gave her a curious look when she said that sounded lovely if Narcissa would have the time. “I can carry it,” she blurted, snatching her carry on from his hand. “I’m fairly certain you broke my laptop in the airport earlier, and I’d rather not chance you breaking it beyond repair.” 

 

There was a flash of guilt, flickering across his face. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. “Tell me if it’s broken.” He told her, shouldering her other duffle and wheeling her suitcase behind him. “And if you wouldn’t tell Father, or Mother, that would be great.” 

 

Hermione blinked. “Okay.” She nodded. “Even if it is broken, it’s been close to giving out for nearly a year. I would have had to buy a new one here no matter what.” 

 

He shook his head, white blond hair falling into his eyes. He gripped her shoulder, yanking her to a full stop. “Granger, if I broke it, I’ll be the one to replace it. Understand?” Not waiting for a response, he made his way past her and up the steps. 

 

She stood in place, nevermind the pouring rain when it fell, the cool droplets feeling incredible against her skin. She took in the rising structure. If the weather were a bit darker, and the manor abandoned, it would have made the perfect setting for something right out of a horror movie. “Have you always lived here?” She called out, craning her neck to the side to peek down a cobblestone path. 

 

“It’s been in the Malfoy family for generations.” He told her, making his way down the steps after leaving her luggage where it wouldn’t get soaked. Shoving his large hands into his pockets, he stood beside her, pointing down the way she was staring. “Mum has a garden down that way. The hedges are trimmed regularly, but I’d hazard the guess you would like it. She’s had a gazebo built. It’s where she goes whenever my father makes her angry.” 

 

Hermione laughed, grinning as she looked up at him. Each time she did so, she had to quite literally look up because he was so fucking tall. If she were honest, which she admitted this begrudgingly since he was such as asshole. Everything about him was just  _ large _ , for lack of better word. His hands, his stature, although he managed it without being too broad shouldered. 

 

“Does that happen often?” 

 

The scowl he’d been sporting damn near since she’d met him slipped for a moment, and her lips parted. To her surprise, he looked almost playful as the corners of his lips quirked up. It wasn’t a smile, but a smirk, and she suddenly understood why girls could be weak in the knees. He shrugged, “They’ve been married twenty five years, so it’s happened a few times. Though..they’ll never fight around you.” 

 

“It’s amazing for them to have been married for so long. Mom and Dad were married for ten.” She kicked a rock absently, not bothering to look up. He stiffened beside her, no doubt thinking of when she’d burst into tears in his car. “I’m not going to cry.” She said softly. “He’s been gone for a long time, so...” 

 

“I’m sorry.” He told her. “I don’t know if my parents knew, but I didn’t have any idea. What happened?” It was a simple question, two words, but her heart thudded in her chest. “Not that you have to tell me a damn thing, but-” 

 

“She had breast cancer, and it was terminal.” Hermione spit the words out, but the familiar stinging behind her eyes didn’t come, nor did the ache in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was better to feel as if she was suffocating, or to feel hollow. “I knew it was coming, and I wasn’t even going to come here.” 

 

“You weren’t? Mum said you were so excited...” 

 

She sort of glared at him, as if she wanted to tell him to just shut up and let her talk. “I didn’t want to leave her. My college had long since picked me to be the recipient to study abroad, and then Mom was released from the hospital, and I just...” her voice was thick, and clearing her throat didn’t help at all. 

 

“You didn’t want to leave her.” He finished, simply, and he was staring up at the sky, where the sun was hidden behind clouds. “That’s fair.” 

 

She nodded. “I wouldn’t tell you all of this normally. I’m probably still in shock and I…”” 

 

“Ramble a fuck ton.” He chuckled, and it should have been illegal how delicious it sounded. “It’s fine; I can’t imagine losing my mum, as much as she irritates me.” 

 

Hermione smiled. “They’re always like that, I think, no matter where you’re from.” 

 

“What are you doing in the rain?” Hermione leaned forward to peek around him, and saw a small woman, probably her height, waving from the porch. “Draco, she’s going to get a cold on her first day here! That’s no way to welcome a guest.” Narcissa shouted. “And take her bag, that’s not how I raised you.” 

 

God help her, she snorted, and her hand flew to cover her face in embarrassment. “Do you see what I mean?” He asked her, giving her no choice as he grabbed the thick strap from her shoulder and slung over his head, the strap flattening against his chest. “Just watch, she’ll ask why I’m wearing my coat instead of giving it to you.” 

 

“I’m not going to melt.” She defended, hurrying towards the steps and the open door where warmth drifted out. 

 

“Clearly,” he scoffed. “You’re not sweet at all.” 

 

It was not an accident when she stepped on his foot, hopping over the bottom two steps and standing in front of Missus Malfoy, who was unsurprisingly blonde as well, her lips painted a dark red. “Missus Malfoy, - ” 

 

She was cut off immediately with a squeal of delight and a fierce hug as Narcissa threw her arms around Hermione’s neck. “Oh, dear, you’re simply stunning. Your mum  told me all about you, and shared so many photographs, but you’re even more striking in person.” Hermione’s cheeks grew hot. “Come inside, of course, you need to warm up.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and by extension her emerald green shawl as well, Narcissa led her inside, sweeping right past two winding staircases that Hermione wanted nothing more than to stare at four hours, taking in every detail. 

 

“Oh, and call me Narcissa. Lucius will feel the same way, and he’s delighted to finally meet you.” She peeked over her shoulder. “Draco Lucius Malfoy, where do you think you’re going?” 

 

A grumbled reply came from behind them; “I’m going to toss this in her room and return to mine?” 

 

Judging from her groan, it was the wrong reply. “Absolutely not, leave it at the bottom of the staircase and come with us. We’re having lunch together. You must be starving.” She turned back to Hermione. It was as they stepped into the kitchen, another room she would need hours to take in properly, that she finally noticed her tattered sleeve and the bandage peeking out from underneath. “Good God, what happened to you?” Narcissa asked, circling her and lifting her elbow. 

 

Hermione hissed through her teeth. “There was an incident at the Leaky Cauldron.” She muttered. “It was my fault.” 

 

“You’re fucking right it was your fault. If you weren’t so busy trying to play the hero,” Draco laid into her. 

 

“Would you shut up?” Hermione snapped. “That old woman had pictures of her newborn grandchild, and she was devastated for them to be lost.” 

 

“So, the two of you have met, and he’s been a terror. Why am I not surprised?” It could have been Draco talking, with how similar their voices sounded. The same low, raspy drawl in an accent that made her want to melt. Lucius Malfoy was, well, suffice it was safe to say where Draco had gotten his looks from. And it wasn’t fair for such good genes to be wasted on him. 

 

“Explain,” Narcissa said, her voice polite, but there was no mistaking the warning laced through it. “You’ve barely been here a few hours, how on earth did you injure yourself?” 

 

“It’s just sore,” Draco commented. “She already had it checked out, and - ” 

 

Narcissa cut him off, and Hermione felt like she needed to leave the room, no matter how badly she wanted to see this grown man earn a scolding from his mother. “I sincerely hope you’re not to tell me you took her to a hospital, and didn’t bother to call me.” 

 

“It was a small injury,” Hermione interrupted. “I didn’t want to worry you over nothing. There was a mugging outside of the Leaky Cauldron. No one was helping this old woman, and I chased after him.” 

 

“ _ You what?”  _ Narcissa gasped. “That’s incredibly dangerous.” 

 

“She almost got hit by a vehicle, and slid over the hood of another.” Draco chimed in, that same smirk twisting his lips as he threw her under the metaphorical bus. 

 

“And where were you?” Lucius asked him, leaning against the dining room table. “Surely you were with her?” 

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s not as if I had much of a choice. She had a head start, but I got the kid off of her after she tackled him. She’s lucky he didn’t break her nose.” 

 

Narcissa gripped Hermione’s chin in her hand, and tilted her face towards the light. Fretting over her, and asking questions, like  _ do you have any idea how dangerous that was _ ? Hermione looked to either of the men in the room to make it stop. 

 

“It was nothing.” Hermione muttered when she was finally able to step away. At the three skeptical faces staring back at her, she continued. “Okay, so it was something, and in hindsight, it might have been a horrible idea. Even then, it was worth it when she got her purse back.” 

 

Lucius' lips quirked into a smirk before melting into a lopsided grin  before he pushed himself away from the table. He stepped towards her, nearly a foot taller than her. “Jean didn’t mention that you had a reckless streak.” He ruffled her hair, the gold of his watch flickering beneath the warm lights of the chandelier that hung over the table. 

 

“Oh, she told me.” Narcissa told her husband. “Not in so many words. More that Hermione here has always tried to do the right thing, even if it were dangerous.” 

 

As flattering as it was to hear compliments, knowing they stemmed from her mother made her stomach twist. “I find it hard to believe that someone who looks like the definition of a good girl could do anything reckless.” Draco drawled, shrugging out of his coat, and laying it over the counter before he lifted himself onto it. “Have you seen yourself?” 

 

“It’s funny how first impressions can be wrong, isn’t it?” Hermione replied, trying not to let a smile ruin the not so subtle jab she was about to say. “For instance, I suppose I look like a girl who would be mugged, not the one who’d chase you down.” 

 

“Is there a point to this, or are you just reiterating what has already been said? I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who fishes for compliments.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, her hands coming to sit at her hips, cocking her head to the side. “And then we have you, covered in tattoos, wearing combat boots, and looking every part of a stereotypical jerk who would burn your house down for kicks.” Draco raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “It’s nice to know that some first impressions are correct no matter what country you’re in.” 

 

His eyes narrowed on her. “Your mouth is going to get you into trouble.” He told her, the backs of his boots hitting the cupboards. 

 

Lucius laughed, clapping her lightly on the back. “You’re just what this family needs.” He told her, ruffling her hair once more, and it reminded her of the times her father had done it before he’d been killed. “I haven’t met anyone who can put up with him for so long.” 

 

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. “He has plenty of friends, so that’s not true. Do you have anything for a headache, actually? I hit it rather hard.” 

 

“Draco, would you grab something from the medicine cabinet in the loo?” Narcissa asked, but it was clear it wasn’t a request. Just like it was clear that this was nothing new. “Have a seat, we’d like to have lunch with you if you’re not exhausted yet.” 

 

Hermione nodded, running her fingers along the glass table, regretting it when she left streaks. The dining room felt so open, with it’s white walls, the glass table that was held up by black metal. The legs curved in the corners to make it stand out. “No, I’m wide awake.” Hermione said. “I drank an energy drink when I landed, and I haven’t passed out yet.” 

 

Narcissa ducked into the kitchen, leaving Hermione in silence as Lucius took the seat across from her. “Has he been positively dreadful?” He asked her, lacing his fingers in front of him as his elbows rested against the table. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, and she took note of the gold band on his ring finger, and the watch wrapped around his wrist. It looked like Fossil. 

 

She shook her head, setting her hands in her lap. Everything was just so pristine, she didn’t want to touch a thing. “He was already upset when I met him in the airport. I ran straight into him. He was apparently an hour early, so...” 

 

“I apologize. It was my plan to pick you up myself, but Narcissa had a dizzy spell this morning. I took her to the hospital an hour before you landed. She’d called him and told him to go there right away.” 

 

“Ah,” her features relaxed. “Is she okay?” Hermione asked. If his foul mood was the result of his mother going to the hospital, well, that was an excuse she could understand. 

 

Lucius waved her off. “Completely fine. She’s never had perfect health. She suffers from a weak immune system, so a standard cold will do her in for a week.” 

 

Draco stormed back into the room, the door flying open from under his hand. She nearly jumped out of her skin, a squeak coming from her, when he slammed a bottle down in front of her. He wrenched the seat beside her out and flung himself into it, his arm hanging over the back of it. “What were you saying about me?” 

 

She blinked. “I told him how I ran into you at the airport, but to be fair I was talking about you,  _ not to you. _ ” Hermione grinned at his groan. “We were talking about Narcissa, and why you had to pick me up instead of your parents.” 

 

He scowled. “Yeah, I’m aware of how you didn’t want to meet me.” 

 

She’d never wanted to throttle someone so badly in her life. “No,” she dragged the word out, looking to Lucius for help, but he shook his head. “I was happy to meet you until you insulted me multiple times, and made me feel unwelcome. I had enough of that at home, and I’m not going to let you walk over me.” 

 

Whatever he might have replied with was cut off by the door swinging open, she’d knocked it open with her hip, as Narcissa carried out two trays. “Your mum told me your favorites, I hope that’s okay.” 

 

Her bright smile made Hermione dizzy, and she let her hair down from its ponytail so the man beside her wouldn’t see her eyes water.

 

* * *

  
  


Draco was left to show her where her bedroom would be, and he didn’t say a word as he walked her there. He refused to let her carry anything, claiming she’d just slow them down. Narcissa had been weary by the end of their meal, and had tried to gather the dishes, but Lucius grasped her by the hips and carried her up the stairs. 

 

Hermione had taken the dishes into the kitchen, loading the dishwasher while Draco stood alongside her. She’d told him she would come back down later and put the glassware away, something he’d only nodded to. 

 

He stepped around her, fingers grasping the faceted door knob, and stepping inside. Setting her bags on the four poster bed, he turned to face her. “If you hate the color of the sheets, Mum has more in the closer in the corridor.” 

 

“The color doesn’t matter to me.” 

 

“She wants it to feel like home for you.” He shrugged. 

 

Hermione stepped around him, unzipping her bag and pulling her laptop from it. “Funny, I want it to feel different from home. I’d rather not remember anything about that place right now.” 

 

Draco cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Is it broken?” He asked her, taking a step forward and looking over her shoulder. She froze, his hot breath below the shell of her ear. “Well?” He rumbled. 

 

Flipping the lid open, Hermione attempted to turn it on, but the screen flashed white. “Shit.” She muttered. “I haven’t even had my money converted yet, and I was going to work on something tonight.” 

 

He nodded. “Is there a brand you prefer?” Draco asked her, shaking his head at her awestruck expression. “I broke your laptop, Granger. You can’t attend university without it unless you want to live in the library.” She didn’t point out that she probably would regardless. “Preference?” He repeated, tapping his foot against the dark carpet impatiently. 

 

She shook her head. “No, a basic one will do. Just something cheap if you really won’t let me pay for it.” 

 

He scoffed. “Not a bloody chance, just keep your word to keep in between us.” Hermione nodded, falling to sit on the bed,  _ her  _ bed she corrected. 

 

“I’ll probably be asleep whenever you get back.” She told him, cracking one eye open. Draco turned to look back at her, his eyes raking up and down her body, as if he were committing her to memory. “Don’t wake me up.” 

 

He rolled his eyes, and the door shut behind him.

 

* * *

  
  


She wasn’t like Pansy, who he could insult and not receive any flack for it. Just an eye roll before she moved on, and shot him some obscene gesture. Not like Ginny, who was a spitfire, and just as likely to kick his arse as she was to snog him. Not quite as strange as Lovegood, who he could only tolerate on his best days. Not that it mattered since his jabs were completely ignored by her. 

 

Hermione Granger was a type of girl that he’d never come across. He’d like to say that he liked her enough. She was intelligent, judging from the way she spoke of her terms in university in America. She was headstrong, a clear fact since he’d watched her hit the ground running out the Leaky. 

 

That was it, the moment that she’d caught him off guard, and she hadn’t stopped since. What other option did he have other than sprinting after her? Granger looked like a good girl, with her converse - a name he’d learned over lunch - and the way she was bound and determined to do the right thing, down to the way she fought with him. 

 

Fucking Christ, the way she argued with him riled him up, and it shouldn’t have made his cock twitch in his pants. She was irritating, with her curly hair that he wanted to drag her around by when she got in his face, and the pretty bow of her lips. Pale pink, and no-

 

She wasn’t that attractive. 

 

It was a lie. 

 

She laughed easily, tucking her hair behind her right ear as she told a story of the first time she learned to drive. Of how it had given her such anxiety, and she’d failed the test on the first try. He wasn’t sure how it worked in the United States; he didn’t show that he was interested as he stabbed at his pasta with a fork. 

 

And then his mother has asked her what her favorite book was. “Oh,” she said quietly. “ _ Jane Eyre. _ ” He wasn’t too surprised by the information of her favorite book being a classic. “My dad bought it for me before he deployed to Iraq.” 

 

If that wasn’t a punch in the gut, he didn’t know what was. Outside with her, watching her when she wasn’t looking, he hated hearing how she’d lost both parents. Still, he listened to her stories without lifting his head, and without commenting. As far as he was concerned, he’d rather her think he hated her. Even though what he wanted was to find out if she would still be so bossy if she were under him. 

 

As he left her, knowing she was probably asleep within moments of him leaving, he grabbed his coat from the dining room, and stormed to his bike. His mother would have told him it was too slick to ride, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck. 

 

He needed to get this out of his system. 

 

* * *

  
  


She woke up when thunder cracked throughout the night. She groaned, rising up and rubbing her eyes. Looking around the room, she felt physically sick. Yesterday morning she had woken on the couch in her living room, with tear stains dried on her cheeks. She had gotten dressed, and then attended the funeral for the most brilliant woman she’d ever met. 

 

And today, Hermione woke up in Malfoy Manor, in Oxford, England. Outside her window, heavy rain poured down. Droplets slid down her window, and she crossed her legs while she slouched over. It was strange to lose a routine. 

 

Wake up, take care of Mom, sleep. She’d been doing that for six weeks, and now she didn’t know what she would do for the day. Looking at her phone, and the time, she saw that it was barely past four o'clock in the morning. Hermione crawled to the side of the bed, padding across the carpeted floor as quietly as she could, while she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. 

 

Using the flashlight on her cell phone, she carefully made her way down the corridor and past Draco’s room. She didn’t know where Narcissa and Lucius slept beyond the fact that it was on the other side of the manor. Taking slow steps so she wouldn’t slip down the white stairs from her socks, she gripped the railing tightly. 

 

Surrounded by darkness except for where her flashlight could reach, the manor was eerily quiet, and if she didn’t know there were others at home, she would have been terrified. She told herself that this was ridiculous, and the last thing she really needed was an irrational fear of a haunted manor. 

 

The edge of her blanket dragged against the tile while she shuffled into the kitchen. Opening the cabinets quietly, she searched, and searched, but to no avail. There wasn’t a coffee machine anyway, and she shouldn’t have been surprised. 

 

“What are you doing?” Draco yawned from behind her. 

 

She whirled around, nearly slipping on the corner of the black comforter she’d wrapped around herself. “I was looking for a coffee machine,” she bit out, averting her eyes because it was impossible not to stare. His pajamas hung low on his hips, and he wore a fitted gray shirt. “I didn’t think there would be one, but I had hoped.” 

 

“We’re British, we drink tea.” He deadpanned, and then laughed under his breath. 

 

“You hang out in a coffee shop,” Hermione argued. 

 

“Yes, but I drink tea.” He harped, and while his expression was blank, she could hear the laughter in his voice. “What kind of tea do you like?” He asked, moving to her side and opening the one cabinet she hadn’t opened yet. 

 

“I don’t know?’ Hermione replied, but it ended as a question, and he just arched an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?” 

 

“So, you’re to tell me you chose to live in England for a year, and you’ve never had tea?” He was laughing at her, plucking a box from the top shelf. As he reached up, his shirt rode up, exposing the bottom of his torso. 

 

She lingered on the hard lines of his stomach for longer than she would later admit to herself. “I’ve had sweet tea.” Hermione offered with a grin, laughing when he appeared as if she’d murdered his family. 

 

“That’s,” he sighed. “That’s pitiful, you traitorous colonial.” 

 

Hermione snorted, watching him pull a kettle from the bottom cupboards. “Keep talking to me like that and I’ll throw all of your tea into the nearest harbor.” She fell into a fit of giggles, while he just glared at her. “What kind of tea is that?” She poked his armas he studiously ignored her. 

 

“Earl Grey. Why are you wearing your blanket?” He asked her, filling the kettle with water and setting it on the stovetop. 

 

“I was planning to sit outside if I found coffee, which I didn’t.” 

 

“You found something better.” He ignored her scoff. “Why would you sit outside anyway? It’s pouring.” 

 

She hopped onto the counter, wrapping the blanket right around her. “It’s how I like to wake up, and I love the rain.” Another clap of thunder rang out.

 

“Did you just flinch at the thunder?” Silence, but heat rose in her cheeks. “How does one adore rain, but fear a key part of it?” 

 

This time, the thunder was louder, and the tumbling shook the windows. Hermione squeaked, scrambling backwards on the kitchen counter and she knocked her head against the metal handle. “Like that,” She grimaced, rubbing the tender spot at the base of her skull. 

 

He laughed, his chest shaking as he look at her. “Your hair is caught in the handle,” 

 

“Of course it is,” she muttered angrily, reaching back to try and untangle the knot. 

 

“Quit it, you’re making it worse.” Draco sidestepped in front of her, and reached behind her head. She caught the sight of a heavy ring on his right hand, with an engraved M in the middle of it. He untangled her hair easily, unaware of the way her heart thudded in her chest. 

 

The tea kettle began to whistle, and he stepped away from her. “I would sit on the porch in the mornings while I drank my coffee.” She explained to him, watching him pivot to throw something in the trash. “Mom would still be asleep, and it was the time I took to myself.” 

 

“Does it rain often there?” 

 

“In Oklahoma?” Hermione laughed, kicking her legs out. “No, it doesn’t. In fact, the summers are fucking stifling, and I could not be happier to be in a country where the heat doesn’t make me want to rip my skin off.” 

 

He stared at her. “That’s an extremely violent opinion on something as simple as the weather.” 

 

She shrugged. “You’ve never been to Oklahoma. You’d hate it too. Drinking coffee outside in the summer isn’t all that enjoyable with the mosquitos and the humidity. Winter is my favorite season.” 

 

He made a noise of acknowledgment, moving to lean against the sink. “It sounds like you loathe home.” 

 

“I always wanted to leave,” Hermione rubbed her arms beneath her blanket. “I’ve always wanted to travel. A career in Foreign Relations would be a wonderful way to work towards that.” 

 

“Have you ever left the United States before now?” 

 

She shook her head. “I’ve never had the opportunity. We went to New York City last year for my birthday, and I’ve been to California, but that’s it.” 

 

He nodded. “Did you choose England?” 

 

She hesitated before nodding. “There were a few trips I could have applied for, but I’ve always wanted to visit Europe. There was one in Scotland, and another in Washington D.C.” 

 

“You could have applied for Scotland though, so why didn’t you?” Malfoy folded his arms over his chest. “It’s just as beautiful there, more so if you ask me.” 

 

She tilted her head to the side, tucking her hair back. “You’ve been there?” 

 

He nodded. “Father used to travel regularly, but since Mum’s health has gotten worse bit by bit, he’s sent me to a few meetings. Scotland, Ireland, most recently I was in Paris.” 

 

She was wide eyed. “That’s amazing.” Hermione breathed. “Would you tell me what Paris is like?” 

 

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Rather dreary from the inside of a conference room. Is that another place you’d like to visit?” 

 

Hermione nodded, a smile curling across her face. “You have no idea how badly I want to see the Eiffel Tower before I die.” 

 

“You’re probably in luck then. Pansy has decided that she likes you for whatever reason, and she has family there. She’d take you.” He said nothing as the tea brewed and Hermione was content to sit in the share silence until.

 

“Did I wake you?” 

 

He groaned at the sound of her voice. “I was awake.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Is it any of your business?” He muttered, as he grabbed two cups from the cupboard beside her head. He poured two cups. 

 

“I’m just trying to make conversation with you. We do have to live together, so we might as well not be enemies the entire time.” She defended, wrapping her fingers around the steaming cup of tea. 

 

His nose wrinkled, an adorable trait really until he opened his mouth. “Well, don’t. I don’t like you that way.” 

 

“Which way?” 

 

“Pick one,” he growled, taking a drink. It had to be scalding, so being the smarter of the two of them, Hermione blew on hers. Draco looked as if all had been set right in his world, something that would probably involve her being far away from him. 

 

Hopeful, Hermione sipped her tea, and then immediately gagged. “Malfoy?” 

 

“What now?” He muttered. 

 

“This tea is shit.” 

 

Draco dumped the kettle in the sink and stormed out of the room while holding his tea and muttering under his breath about  _ fucking colonials.  _

 


	3. Up a Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve more or less accepted that since I’m pretty likely to spend the next year of my life writing this, I should probably slow myself on updates so I don’t burn out. Regardless, I hope you stay around and tell me what you think! See you in a weekish. :)

 

  
  


After cleaning the kettle he’d so rudely left and returning it to its spot in the cupboard, Hermione had settled for a glass of water. Wrapped in her blanket, clutching  _ Jane Eyre _ in her hands, was exactly how Lucius found her at eight o’clock. 

 

“How long have you been out here?” He took a seat beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him. Rain drops splattered across the toes of his leather shoes as they peeked out from the overhead. 

 

“I woke up at four this morning. I tried to find coffee, but I didn’t expect to find any. Then your son called me a filthy colonial several times, and attempted to poison me with Earl Grey tea.” 

 

Lucius laughed loudly, slapping the space between them. “That sounds so ridiculous that it must be true. Why don’t you go out and buy a coffee machine today?” He suggested, sliding a leather bifold from the front pocket of his trousers. “Narcissa wants you to decorate your room anyway, make it your own.” 

 

“I can’t accept that.” She spoke, through her mouth was dry at the credit card he was holding out for her to take. God, it looked too expensive for her to even touch. “I have money, so I-“

 

“Hermione, when we agreed that we wanted to be a host family, we also agreed that we would want to treat said exchange student as our own. So please, just take the card. I would have given it to you regardless because this is yours.” 

 

Scowling, she took the card and turned it over in her hands. With her fingers sliding against the black strip on the back, she noted her first and last name stamped in silver lettering on the front of the card. “I’ll pay you back for anything I purchase one day.” 

 

“Jean told us you would say that.” 

 

Hermione smiled. “Did she tell you I was serious too?” 

 

“Oh, she made it very clear that you don’t like handouts, but I hope you’ll see this as more than a handout.”

 

“I do,” she swallowed. “I would just like to repay this as well.” 

 

“Then you can, whenever you want. Narcissa called Pansy’s mother as soon as she rolled out of bed, so I suspect she’ll be here within the hour. Decorate your room, yeah? Buy a coffee maker, I’ve never had one.”

 

Her grin was stupid. “Perhaps you’ll like it more than tea.” 

 

He chuckled. “Perhaps we can keep that one to ourselves. Is that the copy your father bought you?” Lucius pointed to the open book in her hands. 

 

“It is,” she said quietly, closing the book and handing it to him carefully. 

 

Hermione watched with her heart in her throat as he gingerly flipped the cover open, his fingers drifting across her father’s words. She had the sentence memorized in her sleep now. 

 

Lucius flipped to the next page, and the letter there earned the same reaction she’d had on the plane. Seeing his eyes grow misty pulled at her heart strings, and she found her bottom lip trembling. “I’d better go get dressed if Pansy is coming. You can hold onto that for now. Don’t lose the paper in the back of it.” 

 

Hermione climbed to her feet, balling the blanket in her arms and climbed the stairs two at a time. She passed Draco in the hallway, her shoulder bumping into his, but she didn’t spare a glance at him as she pushed her bedroom door open. Hermione threw the blanket on the bed. 

 

She scrambled to unzip her suitcase, and dumped it across her bed. Yanking the long shirt over her head, and pushing her joggers down her legs, Hermione grabbed an olive green sweater, and tugged the knit fabric over her head. She paired it with a pair of jeans, and grabbed the brush from the pile of her belongings to brush out the knots in her hair. 

 

Hissing in pain, she was certain she’d ripped out half of her hair by the time it was done. The last thing she grabbed before leaving her room was her purse. It was a small crossbody, and she pulled her glasses from the case inside. Flipping the switch, she made her way down the stairs once more, sliding the black framed glasses on. 

 

“I didn’t know you wore glasses!” Narcissa took her by surprise as she rounded a corner, and Hermione jumped back against the wall. 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” her hand flew to her heart. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, you know.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit sorry. “Did Lucius give you your credit card?” Hermione nodded. “Oh, marvelous!” She clapped her hands together, and led Hermione into what she knew was called a sitting room. “Have a seat. I’d like to have a chat before Pansy arrives.” 

 

“Why is Pansy coming over -  _ fuck. _ ” Draco had started to say right over Hermione’s shoulder, eating a biscuit. Though she didn’t have the faintest idea when he’d gotten there. “Would you watch where you’re swinging?” He grumbled, barely catching her at the wrist. “Bloody hell, have you always been scared so easily?” 

 

She ripped her hand away from him. “Pansy and I are going shopping, apparently.” Hermione said, tying her hair up as she took a seat on the sofa. “God,” she muttered under her breath when he just gave her a long look and left the room. 

 

“He’s not as bad as he likes to make people think.” Narcissa told her quietly, smoothing her skirt down while she sat in the chair across from her. “He’s really a sweetheart, and he’d do anything for those friends of his.” 

 

“He just doesn’t like strangers,” Hermione guessed, crossing one leg over the other. “Or is it just something about me?”

 

“What I really think is that if you hadn’t fought with him from quite literally the moment you met, he wouldn’t have continued to rile you up. Yet you did, and you stood up to him in the most comical way I’ve ever witnessed.” 

 

She grew red, remembering how drowsy she must have been to threaten to dump his tea into the harbor. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

 

“He would never admit it, but as his mother I know my son better than anyone else. I saw it immediately even if he’s been a little shite to you, he hit it off with you rather well.” 

 

Hermione shook her head, waving her hands in front of her. “If that’s getting along with me, I’d hate to see what it’s like if he decides he wants to strangle me in my sleep.” 

 

Narcissa’s laugh was airy. “I came down this morning when I heard the kettle, I’m a terribly light sleeper. If he truly loathed you, he wouldn't have made you tea. I promise you that. Ask any of his friends.” She folded her hands in her lap, the light making her wedding ring sparkle. “So, give him a bit more time before you made a judgment.” 

 

Hermione looked down in shame. “I think he’s a good person, a bit of a dry sense of humor, but it seems clear to me that I push all of his buttons. Quite literally at once.” 

 

“Don’t change,  he likes that about you.” Narcissa stood from her seat smiling. “It’s always so lovely to see you, Pansy. How is your mother?” Her skirt swept across the white flooring as she moved to hug the younger girl. 

 

Six inches taller than Narcissa with the boots she wore, Pansy looked awfully out of place against the backdrop of the Malfoy’s sitting room. She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her black jeans; the denim clung to her like a second skin. The shirt she wore had  _ The Shrieking Shack  _ stretched across her breasts in neon lettering. “Ready to go then?” 

 

Hermione nodded. “I don’t have a clue where we’re going, so I hope you don’t mind showing me.” 

 

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” She sniggered, looping her arm through Hermione’s. “I’ll see you when we get back, Narcissa. Mum wants you to come round for tea later today if you have time.” Pansy dragged Hermione from the room, her boots heavy against the tile. “Hi, Draco.” She said with a wave when they passed him on the front porch. 

 

“Where are the two of you going?” Draco took a long drag before crushing a cigarette under his boots. Lucius rolled his eyes from the swing behind the hedges. 

 

“We’re going to the shops so we can decorate her bedroom.” Pansy flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Then we’re meeting with Harry and Theo for lunch. You should join us if you can.” 

 

“Lovegood and Ginny won’t be there?” 

 

Pansy shook her head. “Luna is working today at Flourish and Blotts -- oh, you’ll probably meet her actually. I have an order to pick up for my mum. Ginny has a date with some bloke off Tinder though.” 

 

The way his eyes narrowed at the news of this Ginny made a shiver run down Hermione’s spine. “What is Flourish and Blotts?” Hermione asked, curious, but also wanting to get away from any topic that could make him look like that. 

 

“It’s a bookstore.” Draco told her, and though he didn’t look pleased, his scowl vanished. 

 

“Don’t forget to buy a coffee maker for yourself,” Lucius reminded her, peeking over the edge of his newspaper. “I was doing some research. What is a keurig?” 

 

Hermione grinned, “I’ll show you tonight. Could we stop by the Leaky Cauldron? I’ve been dying for coffee since four this morning.” 

 

Draco’s scoff was loud, and she glared at him. “She’s in Britain, but she hates tea. How does that make any sense?” 

 

Pansy looked between the two of them. “The Leaky is open twenty four hours a day. Why didn’t you just take her to get coffee this morning?” Her perfectly manicured nail was sharp as she jabbed him in the sternum only to have her hand knocked away. 

 

“It was probably because I told him that Earl Grey is shit.” Hermione mumbled, looking at her shoes, but the echoing laugh from the edge of the porch made the situation a bit better. 

 

“That’s because it  _ is  _ shite. You didn’t even have a fair chance to like it if he brewed it.” Pansy tugged her down the steps and the walkway. She’d parked right in front of the house. 

 

Hermione’s cheeks were all too red when she nearly got into the car on the wrong side of the four door car. The only thing that made her feel better was shooting an obscene gesture at Draco. 

 

* * *

  
  


She loved Pansy Parkinson beyond measure. She decided that the moment they got the same drinks at the Leaky, and in the same breath that the woman told her Draco could be the biggest prick on this side of the pond. 

 

The expression made her laugh. She was easy to talk to, and an open book. Hermione was delighted to hear all about her relationship with Harry Potter, the same man who called her Granger Danger. “Four years?” Hermione echoed as she pulled a pair of black curtains from the shelf. 

 

She laughed. “Are you going to ask me if we’re getting married now too?” Hermione shook her head. “Thank God, I get enough of that from my parents. Unlike some of the girls I know, I’m not concerned with getting a ring on my finger. It’s not all about marriage for us.” 

 

Hermione nodded at that, holding her plastic cup up to bump with Pansy’s. “I can’t tell you how refreshing that is. I don’t see myself getting married at all.”

 

“No boyfriend waiting back home?” 

 

She snorted while drinking her coffee. “Absolutely not; you couldn’t have paid me to date anyone from my hometown. Most of the girls I graduated highschool with are married with kids at this point. It’s not for me.” 

 

“I think you should get these,” Pansy plucked a package of string lights from the shelf and tossed them into the cart. “Fairy lights go well with any decor. We can hang them up tonight.” She walked in front of the cart, swaying in tune with the music coming over the intercom. “How did you sleep?” 

 

Hermione shrugged. “Like the dead.” 

 

She liked Pansy’s genuine personality. It brought out some of the traits she didn’t know she had, such as having a fight in the toy section of a store. The fact of it was Pansy didn’t look like she would grab two foam swords from the rack. So when she did, and she tossed one to Hermione, and then jabbed at Hermione, it was safe to say she didn’t expect it. 

 

Hermione lost miserably, slipping on the slick tile. 

 

As an employee came around the corner to investigate the cause of the commotion, Hermione grabbed her by the wrist and ran. 

 

 

Flourish and Blotts was the example of everything she wanted in a bookstore: aisles to get lost in, an attached cafe, and the fact that there was a familiar face behind the counter helped. She waved to Neville, and waited at the counter with him while Pansy followed a blonde to the back. 

 

Neville pulled a stool over for her, and Hermione spun in circles while they talked. “That was some rescue you pulled off yesterday outside of the Leaky.” He laughed, leaning on the counter while he flipped through an inventory catalogue. “If I hadn’t seen it myself I wouldn’t have believed it.” 

 

Her cheeks were warm at the memory. “In hindsight it wasn’t my best idea.” 

 

He shook his head. “That was easily the best thing I’ve ever seen. You should have seen Malfoy’s face.” 

 

“Yeah?” She stopped spinning to look at him. “Was he angry?” 

 

“He was shocked. Took him a moment to process that you had really run after him. I’d say he looked more in awe of you than angry.” 

 

She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, no, he was furious when he finally caught up to me. He took me to St. Mungo’s for my arm afterwards and he kept hitting it!”

 

“That sounds like him. Well, other than chasing after a mugger, how was your first day here?” Neville grabbed a pen from the cup on the counter, circling several books in his magazine. 

 

“I’ve slept, and I’ve gone shopping.” She told him. “Besides going to lunch with Harry and Theo, I don’t think I’ll have energy for anything else. It’s six hours ahead of what I’m used to here.” 

 

He nodded. “Random, but what sort of music do you like?” 

 

It was the sort of question that she never had the answer to. “I’m not that picky really. My mother listened to rock around our house. That’s always stuck with me. Why, do you have any recommendations?” 

 

He grinned. “There’s a free concert this weekend. I know that Pansy and Luna will be there, so I’m sure the rest of the gang will be there too. You should come. I’m meeting them there at nine o’clock.” 

 

“Are you sure it’s okay if I tag along? If they haven’t invited me, I wouldn’t want to be rude.” Hermione told him. 

 

Neville chuckled. “Trust me, Pansy probably assumes you already know that you’re invited.” 

 

“Pansy assumes what?” The black haired girl came around the corner, her fingers clutching a navy blue bag. “It’s not polite to talk about people, Longbottom.” 

 

He rolled his eyes, motioning towards Hermione. “I was just telling her that she should come this weekend, and that you probably assume she knows she’s coming.” 

 

“Of course she knows she’s coming. I told you earlier,” Hermione shook her head at this. Pansy frowned. “Oh, I must have thought it then. I would have sworn I’d told you.” 

 

Hermione laughed. “Well now you have. Are you ready to go then?” 

 

“Finally. Mum was dying for some new novel by Rita Skeeter. I personally think her books are trashy, but the housewives of Great Britain eat it up.” She passed Hermione the bag. 

 

Looking over the hard back, the cover caused her face to heat up. Even though the photograph was dark, it was clear that the man was going down on her. “It  _ does  _ look like rubbish.” Hermione muttered, flipping the book open to a random page in the novel. It was how her mother chose books, and Hermione couldn’t say she agreed with that, but it felt like the right thing to do. 

 

“Look at you, talking like a Brit,” Neville nudged her shoulder. “That bad?” He snorted when she slammed the book shut, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “Out of curiosity, what did you read?” 

 

The words felt ridiculous on her tongue, and she could hardly grasp that they had made it into print. “From what I understand on that page, she had just met an attractive man in a pub, and the first thing he says to her is -- ‘Have you ever been orgasm tortured?’” Hermione held her stomach as she giggled.

 

Neville’s face was red, and Pansy laughed all too loudly, only to be shushed by a woman across the room. The blonde though, Luna, had the best reaction of them all. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard that verbatim, but edging can be rather pleasurable. There’s something about giving all the control up...” she said airily. 

 

She said it so matter of factly that Hermione’s giggles grew louder. “Perhaps, but if a man said that to me I would run in the opposite direction no matter how attractive he was.” 

 

“And that,” Pansy’s hand came down on her back, her bracelets jingling. “Is called self preservation. See you, Luna! Bye, Neville.” 

 

“Wait,” he muttered, catching Hermione’s wrist. He handed her a slip of paper, and it was a telephone number. “I’ll see you this weekend.” 

 

She nodded, pocketing the number and couldn’t help but grin as Pansy led them out the door. 

 

* * *

  
  


When Pansy had said the restaurant was called the Arsonist, Hermione had expected something like the theme of a nineties grunge bar. She was pleasantly surprised by the low chandeliers, and the soft lighting that lit the room. 

 

Theo and Harry moved when the hostess led them between the tables. Covered with white table cloths with a rose gold trim around the edges, Hermione was taken by surprise at just how well all of them lived. Of course she only knew small town life in a rural state, and this was...this was so far beyond what she had experienced before. 

 

Harry stood, bending down to kiss his girlfriend softly before letting her slide into the booth. One did not miss the way he swatted her arse as she did. 

 

“Do you want the seat against the wall, or do you want to sit on the outside?” Theo asked her, holding his arm up and bowing. 

 

She snorted. “The wall will be fine, thank you.” Hermione slid into the booth, pulling the strap of her purse over her head and sliding it between her leg and the wall. 

 

“Did she wear you out?” Harry pushed a plate towards her - full of some sort of finger food. “She’s a monster when it comes to shops.” He groaned when his girlfriend smacked him in the chest. “What I mean to say is, well I meant what I said actually. I had to make up a lie about working overtime so I wouldn’t have to carry bags.” 

 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Ignore him; he was helping his mum garden.” 

 

He gaped at her. “How  _ dare _ you?” 

 

Pansy plucked the food - it _looked_ like french fries, but it most certainly was not -, and chewed quickly. “Tell me, did you plant her lilies like the sweet romantic you are?” She turned to Hermione, shutting her boyfriend’s mouth with her left hand as if this happened all of the time. 

 

Come to think of it, Hermione was pretty sure this was a regular occurence. 

 

“His mum’s name is Lily, and for some reason it’s the only flower he can keep alive.” She told Hermione, her eyes flicking to Theo. “Huge Mumma’s boy this one.” 

 

“Enough about me,” Harry glared at her, knocking Pansy’s food from her hand. “I want to know about you.” He rested his arms on the table, the end of his sleeve of tattoos barely peeking out from below his gray jumper. 

 

“Me? What about me? I’m dreadfully boring.” Hermione told him, folding her hands in her lap. “Well, I suppose the one thing that everyone is bound to learn if they spend any amount of time with me is that my mother passed away. Yesterday, well, the time switch has me all sorts of messed up. The day I boarded the flight was the day we buried her.” 

 

“Oh my God,” Pansy’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “Hermione, I had no idea; are you okay?” 

 

She nodded, the same hollow feeling settling in her chest. “Weirdly, yeah. I’m certain it will feel real soon, but it hasn’t hit me yet. I have a small consolation that she wanted me to be here. I wasn’t going to leave, but then we learned that she couldn’t survive the cancer. The last few weeks have undoubtedly been the worst of my life.” 

 

“It’s no comfort, but I’m truly, really glad you’re here. I love Luna and Ginny, and you’re going to fit in so well with everyone.” Pansy reached across the table to grab her hand, rubbing her thumb across it. “And you’re definitely not boring.” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “All I’ve ever done is study. I’m not..” she trailed off when she was on the receiving end of a sharp glare from Pansy. “Alright, it might be because there’s hardly anything worthwhile where I lived. That and I didn’t have too many friends. Any friends,” she corrected herself, wincing at her inability to lie. 

 

“What’s your favorite animal then?” Theo asked her, looking down at her. His eyes were blue, seemingly too blue as if he wore contacts. 

 

“Cats,” Hermione replied. 

 

* * *

  
  


It was a cat, more specifically a kitten, that caused yet another argument between Hermione and Draco Malfoy. 

 

The storm that had loomed overhead during their lunch, and the drive back to Malfoy Manor with her in Pansy’s car, and Theo in Harry’s, started as they made their way up the cobblestone path leading to the front door. Which was well and fine until Hermione realized she didn’t have a key to the door, and it was indeed locked. 

 

“It’s fine,” Pansy told her. “We’ll just call Draco.” 

 

Between the booming cracks of thunder, she could hear a loud meowing. “Do you hear that?” Hermione asked Theo. “It’s a kitten. You can tell by the meow.” She shoved her hands in the jumper he’d lent her once they realized the were locked out. “I’m going to go find it.” She walked briskly around the porch and around the corner of it.

 

Nothing. 

 

Theo walked close behind her, and then, “I think he’s up in that tree.” He told her, pointing out from under the awning. 

 

Hermione’s hands slipped against the railing as she looked up at the tree, and her eyes landed on a tiny orange tabby stuck on a high branch. “He won’t be able to get down from there.” She told him in a panic. “I’ve got to get him down!” 

 

“Calm down, you can’t go climbing up a tree that high in the middle of a storm. You’ll break your neck if you fall.” His hand was warm as it rested against her shoulder, and he gave it a squeeze. “Just wait here. I know where there’s a ladder, and I’ll get him down, okay?” 

 

It was likely that she would have waited, but then the kitten almost fell from the tree, and she hopped over the railing before she had a chance to think twice. The tree bark was sharp against her hands as she used one of the holes in the tree as a hold for her hand, and it didn’t break until she’d climbed up, pressed her shoes against it. 

 

She winced when thunder struck, tucking her head down before climbing again. Judging from the slow way she moved up the tree, it was evident that she wasn’t athletic. Stubborn, maybe. Soft meows sounded from the branch above her once she was able to crouch on the thick branch protruding from under it. 

 

She smiled at the orange kitten, stretching her fingers out slowly so he could sniff her first. “You’re just scared, aren’t you?” Hermione cooed, her fingers brushing against his whiskers. “I’m rather terrified myself. How on earth did you get up here?”

 

Another trembling meow was followed by a booming voice that nearly caused Hermione to fall out of the tree. “Granger!” Draco sounded exasperated, and she made the mistake of looking down. “What the fuck are you doing up a tree?” 

 

“There was a kitten, and stop yelling. You’ll scare him even more than he already is.” She called down, and the twenty foot dropped seemed longer than it was.  

 

“Can you even climb back down from there?” He yelled, louder this time and probably on purpose. “Theo was getting a bloody ladder-” 

 

“He would have fallen before I had the ladder,” she snapped, slowly standing up, shifting her shoes along the branch. 

 

“For fucks sake, sit down on the branch and let one of us get both of you down.” Draco snarled, and she didn’t have to look to know he’d slammed the ladder against the tree. “If you break your neck, or any part of your body, my mother will murder me.” 

 

Unseen by him, she rolled her eyes. Hermione shrugged out of the wool jumper, balling it up in one arm. “Come here,” she said softly, reaching up and stroking it’s paw. “Everything is okay. That man down there only seems like a jerk. From what I’m told, he’s not all that bad.” The kitten blinked, and one paw slid forward. 

 

He - she checked as soon as she picked him up - looked like he had been scrounging for scraps for several weeks with the way his little ribs poked through his skin. Bundling him up in the shirt, Hermione put one foot against the steel ladder Draco had set up, testing how sturdy it was. When it didn’t sink into the damp ground beneath it, she made her way down. 

 

From the irritated, but shocked grumble that left Draco, she was pretty sure they hadn’t been expecting her to more or less walk down the front of the ladder. Holding the bundle in her arms, she took small steps. “See?” She told Malfoy, motioning towards herself. “I’m completely fine. I’m not well in shape, but I climbed all sorts of thing as a part of my job at home.” 

 

Draco peeled back the sweater, taking a look at the animal in her arms. “He looks mangy.” 

 

She rolled her eyes, the tip of her shoe connecting with his shin. “Yes, that’s what happens when you’re homeless. I’m going to go give him a bath, and some milk. Thank you for grabbing the ladder. I know I couldn’t have gotten down without it.” 

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, nodded, and then walked away without another word. 

  
  



	4. The Shrieking Shack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, me again. I feel it’s necessary to point out to you that Neville did not give Hermione because he’s romantically interested in her. It was strictly as friends. I mean we will get to all the romance drama at some point, but it was not Neville. :)

Narcissa had fallen in love with the mangy tabby she carried into the house, and promptly told her adult son to visit the nearest shop for kibble. Since they would be welcoming another addition into their family, and  _ of course Hermione can keep him! _

 

Hermione had never been so certain she was going to be murdered in her sleep, and she mouthed an apology to him, only for him to flash an obscene gesture at her. 

 

Pansy hopped onto the kitchen counter, the heels of her boots knocking against the white paneling. “Shite, did I scuff it? Narcissa will  _ kill  _ me,” she huffed, leaning down to rub the spot away. “So, cats, huh?” She grinned. 

 

She shrugged, easing the little meowing kitten into the sink. Hermione opened the jumper Theo had given her, making a makeshift nook. “I suppose,” she giggled, turning on the warm water in the opposite side of the sterling sink. “I was never able to have one; my mom was allergic.” 

 

Pansy snorted. “Then how do you know you like them?” 

 

“I volunteered at a shelter at home. There wasn’t much to do where I lived. The population is under ten thousand.” Laughing at how Pansy’s mouth fell open, she continued. “So, I helped with their animals through high school. Volunteer work on your record never looks bad, but..” 

 

“You were really there for the fluff balls, weren’t you?” Pansy peered into the sink. “Poor thing, I wonder how long he was alone.” 

 

“Too long,” she muttered, running her fingers under the warm water before scratching his head. “When I came home, she always avoided me because there was cat hair everywhere.” 

 

Pansy nodded. “I would avoid you too,” 

 

“You wear all black,” Hermione deadpanned, flinching away when she reached out to flick her ear. “It’s a fact!” 

 

“Your tone was uncalled for. God, you should have seen Draco’s reaction. And Theo’s. Narcissa wasn’t even surprised.” She folded her arms across her stomach as she laughed. “I’ve never seen Draco’s eyes get that wide.” 

 

An invisible weight felt as if it had been dropped onto her shoulders. It wasn’t as if she needed Malfoy to like her, but if he could just not view her as such a pest, that would be great. “Was he angry?” 

 

Pansy shook her head. “That’s not the word I’d use at least. He wasn’t shocked when he looked out the window. All he could see was Theo dragging a ladder around, and then he looked up, and you were just-” she dissolved into giggles. “I’d honestly say he was a bit impressed. He was ready to climb that tree and drag you down.” 

 

“He would have clawed that face of his,” Hermione nodded towards the cat, massaging the tangled knots from his fur. “Well, it’s nice to hear I didn’t piss him off anymore than I already had, I suppose.” 

 

Her newfound friend rolled her eyes. “Please, if you had well, and truly infuriated him, I don’t think he would have gone outside at all.” 

 

Soft meows sounded from beneath her hands. “You said I should have seen Theo’s reaction?” Hermione asked then, blowing a piece of hair from her face harshly. “I would have waited for him, but he nearly fell.” 

 

“He’s a lazy arse, and he sprinted across the lawn, so I’d say he was worried.” 

 

“At worst I would have broken my arm,” 

 

“Or your neck,” Pansy told her, and that was that. 

 

* * *

  
  


She loved England. 

 

Hermione believed love was too tame a word for it. Living in an entirely new place left her with a sort of itch beneath her skin. She wanted to break out of her shell, to drink in all of the sights the world had to offer her. She’d tagged along to the outdoor concert that Neville had told her about. And it was nice to see that he’d offered his number simply out of friendship. 

 

She adored Luna from the moment she’d dragged Hermione into the middle of the park to sway along to the music. With her hair tied back loosely, and several bangles adorning her wrists, Luna Lovegood seemed to be the personification of freedom. She was airy, seemingly floating through life, and Hermione told her that she liked the  _ namaste _ tattoo scrawled in cursive across her wrist. 

 

Ginny Weasley was, well, Hermione believed her to be a lot of thing, but the first way to describe her was that she was a firecracker. She was rebellious, a fact all too clear from the dropping neckline of her shirt that laced together from either side. With fiery red hair, and an attitude that never quit, she was the life of the party. Dancing around Malfoy with a ridiculous grin on her face when he glared at her, and them leaving him once Hermione had shyly made her way to Luna’s side. 

 

It was rather clear there was a history between the redhead, and her house mate. She’d noted it when Pansy said Ginny had a tinder date, and Hermione was perfectly fine with never knowing any of that particular back story. 

 

Three girls became four, and Hermione was certain she’d never belonged anywhere else. And when a rock song blared over the speakers, one that she knew word for word in her sleep, Hermione found herself on Ginny’s shoulders, screaming the lyrics. Maybe it was the booze - she’d never been able to hold her liquor, but she’d never tried either - but it was something about being thousands of miles from home that made her feel light. 

 

The first day she set foot on the campus of Oxford, the sunglasses didn’t help at all. The sun was too fucking bright, and her head was pounding. And of bloody course she had Malfoy laughing at her at her side, telling her that little girl’s shouldn’t drink so much when they never had before. Especially with her awful luck, since they’d found paperwork for her to sign and she looked so uncouth. 

 

She waited until  _ after  _ he handed her a packet of ibuprofen to tell him to go fuck himself. 

 

* * *

  
  


As the sun cut across the kitchen, Draco Malfoy leaned against the counter bringing a cup of steaming tea to his lips. Until his mother swept, flounced was a better term, into the room and scared the shite out of him. His cermaic cup took a tumble, shattering against the floor, and Earl Grey seeped into the grooves of the tile. 

 

“Good morning, Mother,” he grumbled, moving towards the broom in the corner. “How are you feeling?” 

 

She’d given them a scare in the weeks earlier. Father insisted she’d been too excited to meet Granger, over exerting herself in the last minute, completely unnecessary cleaning of the manor. Watching her collapse wasn’t a memory he could forget, and she was just so...pale. 

 

“Wonderful,” she took the broom from him, hitting the back of his calves with it. “I wanted to discuss something with you before Hermione came down. Did you know she’s going to teach me how to use her Keurig today?” 

 

He eyed the black and silver machine in disdain. “I didn’t know that. Though I don’t know why you would drink coffee instead of tea, Mother.” 

 

She pinched his cheek. “Now, now, you must try new things, little dragon.” 

 

“ _ Mother!”  _ He hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 

“No matter how many awful tattoos you get, and no matter how many pairs of combat boots you purchase, you’ll still be my little dragon, Draco.” She scolded him, knocking him on the head with the broom handle. 

 

“I’m twenty three years old,” he groaned, setting the kettle on the stove top again. 

 

“Back to what I was saying,” she sighed. “Your father showed me something, and under no circumstances can you tell Hermione I shared this with you, or that,” she bit her bottom lip. “Or that I made a copy of the paper.” She pulled a folded slip of paper from her pocket. It was clear it had originally been a piece of notebook paper. 

 

“And what is this?’ He took it from her, unfolding it. “Jesus Christ, Mother, this looks personal. It doesn’t look like it’s any of your business.” 

 

“Lucius talked to her about it.” She spoke over his disapproval. “And well, it turns out that before her mother passed away, she helped her make this list.” 

 

“What does this have to do with me?” He sighed, but he continued reading through the bullets, his lips curving into a smirk at number four:  _ get a tattoo.  _ No wonder she’d been so interested in his own. “I see that look in your eye -  _ don’t you dare -” _

 

She put her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at him. “Draco Lucius Malfoy,” 

 

His mouth snapped shut at the warning, and he gritted his teeth. 

 

“I’m not feeling well enough to do it, and your father will be leaving for another trip tomorrow. I would love to take Hermione, but Lucius would cancel his trip for worrying.” She rolled her eyes at his huff. “She’s certain you utterly loathe her, Draco. What has she done to you?” 

 

He ran his fingers through his still damp hair. “She hasn’t done anything, and it’s not my problem if she’s worried I dislike her. Why would I go out of my way to take her to do anything? She isn’t my friend. Before you yell at me,” he held his hands up. “I don’t like change, or new people, and you’re well aware of that. Why wouldn’t you ask Pansy? Hermione could go with those girls, and she’d have a better time than she would with me.” 

 

“You need to smooth things over with her!” Narcissa told him quietly, her eyes darting towards the entryway every few seconds. “Please, just do this one thing for me. It’s only riding the London Eye, Draco. It’s a simple tourist attraction. She would never even think it was because of her bucket list.” 

 

His eyes widened. “It’s also over an hour away. We just established that I don’t like her, and you want me to spend what would be a minimum of three hours with her? That’s not a sightseeing trip, Mother. That’s a full scale adventure.” 

 

His mother shrugged, the perfect picture of daintiness. “You’ll take her, or I’ll show Hermione all of those dreadful photographs of you in the tub as a child.” 

 

“You wouldn’t.” 

* * *

  
  
  


She liked how the weather changed moving towards the end of September. Earlier that day, she’d gone to the university to sign even more last minute paperwork, and Malfoy had been silent throughout the car ride.

 

Back in her bedroom, she turned the fairy lights on as she entered, throwing her bag onto her bed. Hermione pulled a book from the table beside the fully made bed, dragging sheets from it and creating a nook in the windowsill. The night sky outside of the tall glass window made for a nice backdrop. Peering up at the sky there was a miniscule pang in her heart. 

 

She hadn’t felt so guilty about leaving the United States in two weeks. After meeting everyone here, there hadn’t been much time. She’d never been the type to pray, even though where she had grown up was lovingly dubbed as the ‘bible belt’. So no, she couldn’t say she prayed, but it was nice to think her mother could hear her. 

 

Crookshanks jumped onto the pillows that laid in the windowsill, pawing at her legs whilst meowing loudly. “What is it?” Hermione laughed, balling up a blanket to sit in her lip. She patted it. “Come lay in my lap,” she cooed, scratching behind his ears where he rolled onto his back. “Oh, no,” she told him, tapping him on the nose. “The second I rub your belly you’ll decide you don’t like it anymore, and you’ll scratch me.” 

 

_ If the long scratch running up my arm is any indication... _

 

Her eyes flicked over  _ Jane Eyre _ , the folded piece of notebook paper poking out from the back cover. She would get to it, Hermione told herself, but now wasn’t the right time. Maybe she had enjoyed herself so much that she could forget, even if it was only for a little while. Opening that list was going to pour salt in slowly closing wounds no matter how long she waited. 

 

Hermione recognized it was a tad cowardly. 

 

Crookshanks rolled against her, purring, and pawing at the back of  _ Wuthering Heights.  _ She grinned, flipping the page as he fought for her attention. The kitten helped in the middle of the night when she was alone. It was hard as she attempted to sleep, remembering all of the things she’d like to tell her mother. Never failing her, Crooks weaseled his way against her chest and curled up there. 

 

Crooks loved Draco, and if Hermione wasn’t around, he followed him dutifully around the manor. Hermione thought it was precious. He’d told her to keep her door shut so as to keep that mangy cat in her bedroom. 

 

He could pretend he hated his orange sidekick all he wanted, but Malfoy liked her cat far more than he liked her. More than once Hermione had peeked around a corner to see Draco crouched down and giving baby Crooks part of his food. It melted her heart, and she’d sprinted back down the corridor before he could see her spying. 

 

They bickered constantly over  _ anything.  _ He always took too long in the bathroom in the mornings, and somehow he always beat her there. He’d sabotaged her keurig one morning because he didn’t like the sound of it, and she’d snapped that his kettle fucking whistled and she never complained. 

 

Just as his purring quieted, signalling that he’d fallen asleep in her lap, her cell phone rang in her pocket. Crooks shot up, his ears perking up as he looked at her as if she’d betrayed him. “I’m sorry,” she muttered before she could remind herself she was talking to a cat. Neville’s name flashed across her screen as she answered it, closing her book. “Hello?” 

 

Loud music boomed in the background, and she scrambled to turn the volume down. “Hermione? Is Draco with you?” Theo’s voice was slightly slurred. 

 

“He’s across the hallway,” she replied, petting Crookshanks when he pawed at her stomach. “Have you called him?” There was an over dramatic sigh, and she laughed. “I often feel that way about Malfoy.” 

 

“Well, we’re at The Shrieking Shack, and we’re both pissed. Neville was supposed to drive us home, but no, that didn’t happen. Could you come get us?” 

 

Her eyes widened, but it’s not like he could see her shaking her head. “I can’t drive here, Theo. Not to mention everything is opposite for me; I wouldn’t know where to start.” 

 

“Probably with putting the keys in the ignition.” 

 

“Oh, fuck off,” she laughed, scooping Crooks into her arms and laying him in the window seat. “I’ll just ask him if he can take the two of you home. I’ll call you back.” She pocketed her phone in the only pocket of her shorts that she slept in, and adjusted the long t shirt to show that she  _ was _ wearing bottoms before knocking on his door softly. 

 

“Come in,”

 

The doorknob was cool beneath her fingers as she turned it, pushing the door open. His eyes widened over the rim of his glasses as he looked at her. He was laid up in bed with his back to the headboard. Slamming his book shut, he took his glasses off. “What do you want?” 

 

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” Hermione told him, stepping inside, but she left the bedroom door wide open. 

 

“They’re reading glasses,” he grumbled, setting a file on his bedside table. “What do you want? I assume you didn’t come in here for my company.” 

 

She scoffed. “I would never.” 

 

“You shouldn’t be so quick to judgement, Granger. I’m rather charming.” 

 

“Rubbish,” she waved him off, shifting her weight while she stood, and crossing one leg over the other as she took a look around his room. Anything to keep her eyes from lingering on his naked chest, which by the way was also covered in tattoos. “Neville called me - well, Theo called from Neville’s phone. They’re too drunk to drive and need you to pick them up. They asked me, but clearly I can’t drive.” 

 

He nodded, not moving from his spot. “Of course they’re pissed.” He rolled his eyes, bending to grab a jumper from the floor. “Let’s go then.” Malfoy told her, standing to his feet and tugging the shirt over his head. With his back to her, she saw how his back muscles contorted, and it was impossible not to look. 

 

“Wait,” she shook her head. “I’m not going.” 

 

“Why wouldn’t you? They called you.” 

 

“Malfoy, I’m in my pajamas; I’m not going to a bar to pick them up. I look ridiculous.” 

 

He threw a balled up jumper at her. “Then put that over your clothes, and pull your shorts down some. If I have to cut my night short then so do you.” 

 

Her eyebrows knitted together as she looked at the heavy material in her hands. “You were reading!” 

 

Draco smirked, bending down to look at her at eye level. “You’re to tell me you weren’t reading?” 

 

She swallowed. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” 

 

“I happen to think you like me.” He told her, grabbing a set of keys from his dresser. “Come on then. The longer you stand there, the more likely they are to get into a pub fight before we get there.” 

 

“At least let me put on actual pants,” Hermione protested. He clicked his tongue at her, grabbing her by the arm, and leading her down the corridor. “You’re only doing this to irritate me, aren't’ you?” 

 

She considered herself lucky to grab her shoes before she was led out of the manor. 

 

* * *

  
  


She wondered absently if The Shrieking Shack earned its name from the loud screaming that seemed to be pouring out to the pub. She glared at Malfoy when he told her to get out of his car. Dressed in shorts that she’d been able to tug lower given how big her jumper was, she didn’t feel quite so exposed as he led her inside. 

 

It was a mess right from the start. Losing Malfoy nearly immediately, she sighed and made her way to the counter. Stepping onto the edge of it, she sat on one of the stools. 

 

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked her. He was a short, stocky man. 

 

“Uh, can I just get water? Bottled, if you have it?” Hermione clasped her hands together, finding that they were already clammy as the man nodded. He turned to open a mini fridge below the counter and tossed her a water bottle. 

 

“Still sealed, love. Are you waiting for someone?” 

 

She nodded, glancing around her. “Yeah, I was with someone, but we’re only here to take some friends home,”

 

“Alright then,” he left her sitting there. 

 

Hermione’s shoulders were hunched over as she tried to make herself not stand out. The crowds coupled with the fact that she was alone made her uncomfortable. She looked over the tops of patrons’ heads, trying to spot any of the three people she knew here. Hermione twisted the cap off of the bottle, taking a long drink of water. 

 

The tap of her shoulder nearly made her fall off of the stool. Certain it was going to be Malfoy, she whirled around, and jabbed him in the sternum. Only it wasn’t him, and an older, brunette man looked at her curiously, with a smile on his face that didn’t seem to fit there. “I’m so sorry.” She yelled over the pounding bass. “I thought you were someone else.” 

 

He laughed. “It doesn’t seem like you like them all too much then.” The first thing she noticed was that he wasn’t drunk, and the second thing she noticed was how dark his eyes were. A deep chocolate brown that would have seemed fathomless if it weren’t for the amber colored flecks throughout his irises. “Antonin,” he introduced, offering his hand. 

 

She shook his hand. “Hermione.” 

 

“You’re American, yes?” 

 

She nodded, taking another look around the room before grabbing her water bottle, and putting the lid back on it. “Yeah. I’m just here for the year to study at Oxford.” 

 

Antonin leaned against the bar, waving to the bartender, and it was moments later that a glass of whiskey was slid across the counter. “Are you here with friends?” 

 

Untwisting the lid of the water once more, she drank the rest of it, wiping the corner of her mouth. “I got lost while we were looking for them. I’m just tagging along.” 

 

He smiled again, and there was something off about it. Perhaps it was how there were no lines by the corners of his mouth to show that he smiled often. Or that he was a complete stranger and she was just casting her judgements onto him. “I’m sure they’ll come looking for you soon.” 

 

Hermione should have listened to her instincts. 

  
  
  


She sat mostly in silence while Antonin told her of all the sights she should see, but when he mentioned how there was a landmark, some statue not too far from where they were, she commented that she’d have to see it sometime. “I could show you now. It’s a short walk from here.” He took hold of her hand. 

 

Hermione looked around, desperately hoping to see at least one of them. Where had they even gone? It had been nearly an hour, and she still hadn’t seen them. If they were off in a dark corner with some girl, she was going to murder them. 

 

‘No, thank you.” She ripped her hand away. Her head was pounding, and as she finally noticed something she should have noticed when it happened, panic clawed at her insides. Her movements were sluggish, and she felt dizzy, as if sleep was skirting around her as it waited to claim her. “You drugged me.” She gasped.

 

His eyes narrowed, his grip on her forearm tightened. “Don’t be ridiculous, Hermione.” His voice was soft, going unheard by anyone. 

 

Hermione couldn’t pull her arm free. The bartender was down the counter, passing drinks to another man, paying no mind to a girl in her pajamas. As the man opposite her tugged her forward harshly, smashing her against him, Hermione let out the loudest scream she could manage. 

 

Her ears were ringing as she stumbled away from him, the back of her heel meeting the ledge of the floor. She smashed her elbow - that same fucking elbow- against the wooden countertop, and she managed to hold herself upright. “Get the fuck away from me,” 

 

Antonin opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t get the chance as someone knocked him out of the way. 

 

“Granger, what did you scream my name for?” Draco crouched beside her, a still lit cigarette balanced between his fingers. “Hey,” he snapped his fingers in front of her face, but she couldn’t focus on him. “Did you take something?” 

 

She pointed behind him, and Antonin’s face had drained of color. “I think..” she trailed off, swallowing while trying to get the words out. “I think he might have put something in my drink. I screamed for you?” 

 

He nodded, dropping his cigarette to the floor and smashing it beneath his boot. “You sure fucking did; I heard it from the back alley.” 

 

“I was terrified.” She mumbled. 

 

He looked over his shoulder. “If you try to run, I’m going to make this hurt more,” he snarled, sliding his arms beneath her shoulders and the backs of her knees. Draco sat her on the countertop, steadying her before letting go. “Hey! Don’t let her fall, will you?” 

 

“Don’t start a brawl in my pub, Malfoy!” Someone yelled, and there was a tumbler shattering against the floor, but the blond had already stepped away from her. 

 

A hand pressed into the small of her back to steady her. “Easy there, love. I won’t let you fall when you pass out.” 

 

She wanted to say  _ if  _ she passed out, but he must have seen this before. Naive girl gets drugged in a bar. Said girl screams for her prickly housemate. 

 

Said housemate..

 

“What the fuck,” she gasped, leaning two forward, and thank God for the hands that kept her from falling flat on her face. “Malfoy, oh, my God.” She groaned as he stomped towards the dark haired man. 

 

Popping his knuckles, he stepped into the swing. There was a sickening crunch as his fist met the man’s nose, and she watched in horror - in awe? Perhaps both? - and the other man stumbled backwards. 

 

Draco gripped the sides of his jacket, hauling him forward and headbutting him hard, before slinging him over the counter, and dragging him down over the glasses sitting there. The patrons has cleared out of his path, and several of them were cheering. 

 

“Hermione, are you alright?” Theo stood in front of her, but she couldn’t quite nod. 

 

She thought absently that it was impressive that Antonin had been knocked unconscious before her. Moments after Draco stepped away from him, wiping blood from his knuckles, Hermione passed out. Slumping forward, Theo, or maybe Neville, caught her. 

 

* * *

  
  


Everything hurt, but the first thing she noticed was that her throat was dry. Hermione coughed, propping herself up in her bed. She wasn’t sure when she’d gotten home, and her head was pounding, and -  

 

“You’re awake.” 

 

She shrieked, yanking the blanket over herself as she stared at him. Malfoy sat in a chair he’d pulled out from under her desk, with his sock clad feet propped up on her bed. His boots were discarded in the floor. “Malfoy, why are you-” 

 

“A long time ago, Pansy was drugged at a party. I remembered how disoriented she was, and I assumed you wouldn’t want to be alone. How’s your head?” He asked her, leaning over to swipe a white bottle that had a blue label wrapped around it, from her bedside table. “You hit it pretty hard when you took a dive from the counter. I thought Theo had a good hold on you.” 

 

“He didn’t?” Hermione asked. The memories were still blurry, but she was sure someone had caught her. 

 

“At first, but then the prick dropped you so it didn’t do a whole lot of good. You hit your head pretty hard, but I thought you were fine.”

 

“Oh,” she mumbled, taking the two pills from his hand. “Thank you,” she told him when he handed her a glass of water. “How long have I been asleep?” 

 

“Three hours,” he shrugged. “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

 

“We were at The Shrieking - you shattered Antonin’s nose, didn’t you?” She remembered the blood that had gushed from his nose, and the awful crack that had gone along with it. “You beat the shit out of him.” 

 

Draco nodded, his fist tightening in his lap. “I did,” he agreed, and she picked up his hand, looking over the stained blood. 

 

“You haven’t washed your hands?” 

 

Another shrug. “I’ve been here the whole time. I carried you in, but Mum doesn’t know anything.” 

 

“Thank you,” she repeated. “You have a cut right here.” Her finger hovered over the small gash. “You should take care of it,” 

 

“It’s probably from his tooth.” 

 

Hermione stared at him. “Why did you drag him across the counter? One punch would have been enough,” 

 

His feet dropped off of her bed, and he leaned towards her, resting his elbows on his knees. “What I did  _ still  _ wasn’t enough. He would have raped you. There’s little doubt about that.” 

 

She hiccuped, and clenched the blanket. “Thank you - again I mean. I’m sorry I keep repeating myself.” 

 

He smirked. “I’m going to go clean my hands off now. If you need anything, and I sincerely hope you don’t, let me know.” He grabbed his boots, and locked the door on his way out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnnnnng. I love my Draco so much and I just really enjoyed writing this chapter! I look forward to hearing what you think!


	5. Bucket List # 19 - Ride the London Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I outlined this story all the way to chapter 15 yesterday, which is about halfway, and oh my God. I’m so unbelievably excited.

In the days following the bloody fight at the Shrieking Shack, he hadn’t seen much of Granger. If he cared to guess, he’d probably say she was avoiding him. Not that avoiding him made a lick of sense, but it did give  him peace and quiet...

 

Until his mother texted him on the morning of September eighteenth to remind him that Granger’s birthday was the next day. 

 

He grumbled, dropping his phone on the table before lighting his cigarette. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Theo asked him, leaning back in the chair with his arm slung over the back of it. 

 

The Leaky Cauldron was loud for a Monday morning. By eight o'clock, most of the regulars, the ones who wore their very best suits, had already come by to grab their orders. By nine o'clock, Draco cringed at the familiar sound of university coed’s poured in, chattering loudly about frappuccinos. A blonde sat across the aisle from him, glancing up every few moments, and he was positive that she’d snapped a photo of him to send to her friends. It was fucking irritating. 

 

“Mum wants me to take Granger out for her birthday tomorrow. She has this-” His eyebrows furrowed together as he was interrupted. 

 

“It’s her birthday tomorrow?” Theo asked suddenly, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “Funny, she didn’t tell me that last night.” 

 

“The two of you were together last night?” 

 

Theo shook his head. “Oh, no, we exchanged numbers.” 

 

Grey eyes narrowed. “Are you the bloody reason her phone was going off until four in the morning? You prick, I couldn’t sleep.” 

 

Grinning sheepishly, he shrugged. “My bad, mate; it’s not like I knew she kept her phone on loud. Maybe she turned it up so a new message would wake her if she fell asleep.” He theorized. 

 

Draco scoffed. “I doubt it. Anyway, mum found this list Granger had. It’s a bucket list she wrote with her mum, evidently. I looked it over, and the only one I could get away with, without her finding out, would be to take her to the London Eye. Mum texted me to remind me that it’s tomorrow.” He grumbled. 

 

“You going?” Theo asked him. 

 

Draco took a drink of his tea. “Suppose so, or else Mum will complain that I’m too mean to Granger. I’m driving though - I want to be able to smoke. I’ll just pay for bloody parking, and take a taxi everywhere.” 

 

“Yeah, London traffic is a nightmare.” His best friend agreed, his fingers tapping against the table. “What time will the pair of you leave?” 

 

“By noon - the sooner we go, the sooner we get back, and the sooner I don’t have to bloody babysit.” Draco snapped. 

* * *

  
  
  


There was a light rapping against her bedroom door early on her birthday. Expecting to see Narcissa, or maybe Lucius if he’d gotten home earlier from his flight, Hermione didn’t think to change out of her fluffy pajama bottoms, or her shirt. She crossed an arm under her chest so it wouldn’t be obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra, and pulled the door open. 

 

She blinked. “Theo?” 

 

“Shh,” he told her, holding up a bag from the Leaky. “There’s hot coffee in the car. Get dressed, and be quick about it.” 

 

She arched an eyebrow. “And just where are we going at,” she glanced at the alarm clock behind the door. “Seven in the morning? I’ve barely woken up.” 

 

He grinned, leaning against the doorframe while peeking over his shoulder. “I thought you’d like to go to London. It’s your birthday, Granger, or did you forget?” 

 

Hermione’s eyes widened as she looked up at him, her lips curled into a bright smile. “Really?” She definitely didn’t jump up and down in excitement. “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind? It’s a long trip - I looked it up during the application process for coming here.” 

 

He hushed her by settling his index finger against the bow of her lips. “Granger, I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to take you. What you need is get dressed, unless you’d like to travel in your pajamas, and you need to be quiet before you wake up the entire manor.” 

 

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I should at least leave a note for Narcissa so she won’t worry. Oh!” She said too loudly, and then lowering her voice when he cast a leveled stare at her. “Do you think we could make it back before dinner? I know she’s made plans for me, and Lucius will be home,” 

 

“Hermione, stop rambling and get dressed.” He laughed. “I’ll have you back for supper with time to spare. I’ll be downstairs; try not to take too long because the train leaves in thirty minutes;we don’t want to miss it.” 

 

“Right, okay, I’ll be down in ten minutes at the most.” Hermione let the door fall shut in his face, swallowing the squeals that threatened to burst from her chest. 

 

She flipped the lock into place, and hooked her fingers into the waist of her bottoms, shimmying out of them, and pulling her shirt over her head. It was lucky she’d showered last night. She grabbed the first pair of clean jeans she saw - a pair she’d had for three years, and the hole in the knee continually got larger from stepping into them wrong so often. Hermione pulled a sweater from the closet, and then threw it behind her onto her mess of a bed. 

 

“Not salmon,” she muttered, leaving the sweater where it fell. Her mother had always told her it made her skin look terribly washed out, and then; “That green one.” It was silly to talk to herself, Hermione realized. Rifling through the rack of clothes that she’d brought with her, her fingers closed on the oversized, cashmere sweater.

Raising it to her face, Hermione inhaled, smelling the familiar smell of home. She tugged it over her head, adjusting where the collar fell so her shoulders wouldn’t be completely bare. Nearly breaking the plastic brush - the brush she had told Pansy wouldn’t work - off in her hair Hermione chose to just tie it up. She let some hair hang down, making her face feel not quite as chubby, and she slipped her mother’s ring onto her finger before grabbing her bag. 

 

It was immediately after her door slammed shut that she thought to grab the list from inside of  _ Jane Eyre.  _ And also that she should have been more quiet because she was certain she’d just heard Malfoy rustling around in his bedroom across the hallway. Taking a slow step backwards, the doorknob was cool to the touch as she hurried to yank the drawer open. Hermione placed the folded list into a pocket of her purse, and grabbed a pen. 

 

_ Just in case I see the London Eye today.  _

 

Hermione closed the door quieter this time, leaning against the wall as she tied her converse before she managed to throw herself down the stairs. The third step from the bottom creaked as her weight pressed against it, and she just jumped past the last one. Theo stood at the end of the railing, his hand shooting out when she nearly fell right on her face. 

 

“I left a note for Narcissa in the kitchen; it won’t be long before she wakes up.” He told her, opening the front door for her, and locking it behind him as they left. His car idled in front of the manor while she hurried down the path to get out of the rain. “Any sights you’d like to see today?” 

 

She looked at him curiously. “If you don’t have anything already planned, I'd love to ride the London Eye.” 

 

Theo’s grin was wide as he raced around the car to open the passenger side door. “Done.” 

 

* * *

  
  


Narcissa Malfoy considered herself to be a calm person. Compared to her son’s temperament, and her husband’s ire that only came out once in a blue moon, she must have been a saint. 

 

That was not how she felt today at all. Waking up to Crookshanks curled up on Lucius’s pillow was an endearing sight, but then she’d made the mistake of petting his belly, and was now sporting a fresh scratch on the outside of her forearm. 

 

Her husband’s flight was delayed, as she discovered from the message waiting for her on her mobile. The subtle frown on her face from the news compared to the narrowing of her eyes when she made it into the kitchen. She found that she liked coffee if she added enough sugar, and the machine was usually still warm from Hermione making her cup in the mornings. 

 

It wasn’t though. There were no napkins out, and the mug Narcissa always used was still in the cabinet. Hermione always laid it out for her. Noticing the scrap of paper on the island, she assumed she’d gone for breakfast with Pansy, but  _ no.  _

 

_ Hermione and I are going to London for the day, and she wanted to leave a note so you wouldn’t worry. I’ll have her home for supper before Lucius is home.  _

 

_ Theo.  _

 

The paper crumpled as her fingers curled into a tight fist. Forgetting about the teal mug that still sat in the cupboard, she made her way up the stairs, her robe dragging along the carpet while Crooks tutted beside her. Not bothering to knock, she pushed her son’s door open. “Draco Lucius - ” 

 

“I’m awake. If you’re here to bother me, rest assured I’m only mentally preparing myself to spend the next several hours with her.” He rumbled without rolling over. “The little witch is still probably asleep.” 

 

She put her hands on her hips. “I’m afraid not. Hermione is already on her way to London; she’s probably on the train already with Theo.” 

 

Draco rolled over, propping himself up on his arm. “Theo?” 

 

His mother nodded, tossing a wadded up piece of paper to him that he caught. “I suppose you’re free to do as you please today then. You were only going because I’d asked -” It was incredibly hard not to grin when her son cut her off angrily, just like she expected. 

 

“That fucking prick,” he hissed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and running his fingers through his hair. “So that’s the reason he asked so many questions about this. When was I taking her? When were we leaving? Arsehole.” Draco muttered, dropping the note into the wastebin beside his desk. 

 

Narcissa concealed her smile by raising the sleeve of her robe, and shrugged. “I fail to see the problem. You didn’t want to go, and now you don’t have to. Shouldn’t you be thanking your best friend instead of cursing him?” 

 

He glared at her. “He bloody wants to outdo me!” 

 

“And?” She prompted, kneeling down to carefully scoop the kitten into her arms. “As you’ve told me time and time again, you loathe Hermione. With her frizzy hair, which is cute if you ask me, and her know it all attitude, which again if you ask me, it’s a sure sign of her intelligence that she doesn’t put up with any of your shite.” 

 

Draco moved past her, grabbing a jumper from his dresser and pulling it over his head. “I don’t know,” he grumbled. “It’s just shitty of him to steal an idea that I had,” 

 

She cleared her throat. “It was my idea, and you complained about it like a petulant child.” 

 

“And now he’s whisked her off to fucking London.” 

 

_ “Language,  _ little dragon.” 

 

“Sod off. And how does he know I wasn’t actually interested in Granger? It’s not as if I nearly killed some guy at the Shack when he spiked her drink -” Draco cut himself off. 

 

Narcissa arched an eyebrow. “Really now? Come to think of it, I don’t think I heard anything about that. You can tell me all about it while we go for breakfast.” When he swiped his cigarettes from the dresser, she added; “And no smoking in my car.” 

* * *

 

“I thought you said the train would be leaving on the half hour,” Hermione said dryly, crossing her arms over her chest as they stood on the platform. 

 

Theo laughed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pullover. “Don’t you know trains are always late?” 

 

Her nose crinkled. “That seems like poor planning, and it also sounds like you’re just saying that because I’m American and you could fool me.” Her cheeks heated up when his booming laugh drew attention to them. “I’ve never ridden a train before.” 

 

“No? They’re not that great. Birds like to romanticize them. The truth is that us Brits hate traveling, or driving long distances. Draco always drives to London so he can smoke, and then he’ll take a taxi. Traffic in London is a nightmare.” He made a show of motioning for her to go first as the train pulled into the station. 

 

Hermione climbed onto the train, looking down to make sure she didn’t wedge her foot between the platform and the train itself. Theo was right behind, sliding into the seat opposite her as she peered out the window. “It’s about an hour there, isn’t it?” She shivered from a sudden chill against her neck, tugging her hair tie from it and brushing her hair out the best she could. 

 

He nodded. “Yes.” 

 

She was content to settle into silence rather than attempt awkward small talk with someone she barely knew beyond one night of late night texting. Hermione brought her knees to her chest, the exposed skin through the holes in the denim resting against the edge of the table between them. There was a message - no, there were  _ several  _ texts - from Pansy, and when she scrolled up, from Luna and Ginny as well. At some point between leaving the platform, and finding her way to her seat, she’d been lumped into a group text. 

 

The notification with a glaring red twenty one was daunting. Typing out her thank yous, she switching to the camera and rested her hands on her knees, taking a photo of herself grinning ear to ear. Her hair was a fucking wreck from the wind outside, and Hermione was tempted to make her way to the nearest mirror to fix the bird nest atop her head. 

 

“What?” She asked as she realized Theo was looking at her curiously. “I’ve never been on a train before.” 

 

The corner of his lip quirked up. “So you’ve told me. Is it what you thought it would be?” 

 

Hermione looked around the compartment, tilting her head as she looked at a pair of two elderly men playing chess to pass the time. “It’s rather quiet. I thought it would be louder.” 

 

Theo shook his head, leaning back in the seat. “Happy birthday,” he murmured, pulling something from his pocket. 

 

“Thank you - please don’t tell me you’ve bought me a gift.” Hermione blurted, cringing at her crass tone as a light red dusted his cheeks. “Oh, I don’t mean it like that. It’s wonderful if you have; I just meant it’s not necessary. You’re already taking me so far away, which I’m not sure why, but - ” 

 

“I wanted to get to know you better. I realize now I probably should have started smaller.” Raising his hand and rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly, he slid a small box across the counter. “I promise that it’s nothing major. I saw it this morning, and thought you’d like it. The receipt is there for you to return it if - ” 

 

“Theo?” 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“Shut the fuck up. I’m sure I’ll love it.” Hermione sniggered at the way his eyes widened too quickly for him to hide, and she tugged on the string gently, and then unwrapped the present with precision. The cardboard box was made of recycled material, and  _ Mione  _ was written across the top of it. Hermione didn’t have the heart to tell him that she despised the nickname. 

 

Reaching inside, her fingers slid over the familiar curve of the ceramic handle of a coffee cup, and she smiled brightly. “Thank you,” she said without looking at it yet. “Draco and I have been fighting over the same cup. You see, I purchased it, but he tells me it’s not worthy of using for coffee, and would be better used for his precious Earl Grey.” 

 

Hermione held the cup up in both hands, her grip tightening when the train hit a slight bump. It tumbled out of her grasp, but Theo caught it. Across the side, Hermione read  _ Wanderlust  _ in black calligraphy, with a small golden arrow below it. “I love it.” Upon setting it down, she noticed a piece of cardboard from the inside of the oversized mug - that she would definitely be using before exams -, and looked at the gift card from the Leaky Cauldron. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Do you think you could put it back in your bag so I don’t break it before we get back?” 

 

He nodded. “It was poor planning to give it to you before we made the trek, wasn’t it?” 

 

She shrugged, looking down at a message from Pansy:  _ What the fuck, Hermione Jean. Is this a date?  _

 

Snorting, she told Theo; “Those are your words, not mine.” 

 

And then she typed :  _ I don’t think it’s a date, but he might think it is. Would it be rude to tell him straight away that it isn’t?  _

* * *

 

She hated taxis, that much was clear. Hermione wasn’t claustrophobic, but if she was tossed across the back seat and into Theo’s side one more time, she was going to insist upon walking to the London Eye. It couldn’t be that hard to find - the structure must rise above much of the city. But the next time the driver turned a corner,  _ too  _ sharply if you asked her, Theo caught her by the shoulders and kept her at arm’s length. 

 

He led her down the street, holding the door open for her, and offering his hand to help her out. Hermione climbed out on her own, thrilled to have her feet on solid ground once more. “Where to?” She asked, twisting to look around them. 

 

There were dozens of shops, and she wanted to duck into every single last one to see what this city had to offer. Theo dragged her along by her collar, laughing when she pointed towards a large bookstore across the busy street. “Later, Granger, I’m starving.” 

 

“You just ate though,” Hermione pointed out, trying to lunge away from him when he wasn’t expecting it, but all she managed to do was nearly choke herself. Her cheeks heated up as he chuckled under his breath as a gasp tumbled from her lips. “You ate my food too, actually.” 

 

“I’m a growing boy,” he dismissed flippantly. 

 

Hermione snorted, her hand flying up to cover her mouth at the embarrassing sound, but Theo was still grinning. “You’re not a boy, Theodore. You’re a grown man, and if you’re not careful the only thing growing will be your waist size.” 

 

“You wound me, Hermione. Come on, let me grab something small to eat, and then I’ll take you to that bookstore.” 

 

“Or,” she hedged. “I could go to the bookstore alone, and then you can meet me there. It’s a win-win really.” 

 

He arched an eyebrow, hooking his arm through hers, and pulling her into the crowds. “You could be abducted.” 

 

Hermione’s head fell back as she laughed, pieces of her hair slipping from the semi presentable bun on top of her head. “You know, my dad used to tell me that if I were ever kidnapped, they would circle the block, and bring me back.” 

 

There were lines beside Theo’s eyes as he smiled, and she found that she  _ liked  _ causing that smile, and also that his teeth were immaculate. “Why would he say that?” 

 

He’d never heard her talk about her father, but she shrugged, suddenly shy that she’d offered such gratuitous personal information. “I’ve always liked facts - they’re unchanging, and there were all sorts of things I’d say. The most ridiculous,” there was a chime on the door as he led her into a small shop with white tile flooring, “things during road trips.” 

 

“Tell me one then.” Theo beamed at her before turning to the sales clerk

 

Hermione shook her head as crimson pooled in her cheeks. “No, I actually can’t think of one besides this one that I’m really not interested in repeating.” 

 

“What kind of facts are you looking up?” Theo leered at her jokingly, bumping his hip against hers. “Come on, Granger, is this one you told your dad?” 

 

“Oh, yes,” she couldn’t help giggling. “I’ll never get the look on his face out of my head. God, it was - he was, I think he was shocked.” 

 

Taking the package from over the counter, and handing the clerk a bill, he left the rest for the tip jar, and led her back onto the street once more. “You have to tell me then.” 

 

She sighed, wrapped her arms around her waist, and clutching the strap of her crossbody purse just in case someone attempted to grab it. “Well, you should remember that I was nine, and I had just looked online for facts to make him laugh. He was deployed then.” 

 

“Oh, I didn’t know.” 

 

She suspected that he did, but she let that go. “We were video chatting, and there were other members of his unit behind him, and I thought that they wouldn’t be listening to me -” Hermione realized that she was rambling, but more so that he wasn’t rushing her as she was so used to. “Did you know that kangaroos have three vaginas?” She blurted, but it was a bit too loud as a woman passing them gave her a dirty look. 

 

In the middle of taking a drink, Theo spluttered, and Hermione swatted him on the back. “That doesn’t help,” he gasped, but then he was laughing so loudly that she thought the entire city must have heard him. “I actually did know that, but I can see why he would be surprised.” 

 

She smiled. “Yeah,” Hermione breathed, taking a look both ways before stepping into the street. Her phone rang in her pocket; she pulled it out and saw Pansy’s name flashing on the screen. She pressed it to her ear. “Hello?” Plugging her other ear, she followed Theo across the street. 

 

“Hey! Am I on speaker? Can Theo hear me?” 

 

“No..” 

 

“Okay, good. Has he mentioned anything about Draco, or him coming to London?” There was a rustling in the background, followed by a; “Harry, quit it.” 

 

Hermione stopped in front of the storefront. “No, he didn’t mention it. Is Malfoy supposed to meet us here? I’m not sure why he wouldn’t call me himself.” Theo froze a few feet away. 

 

“ _ No. _ ” Pansy stressed, and she could imagine the woman running her fingers through her hair. “Hermione, he was supposed to take you to London for your birthday - like he was going to make the drive this morning. Apparently he mentioned it to Theo, and Theo asked a shit ton of questions.” 

 

Hermione couldn’t explain why it felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Even if Malfoy had brought her, she was sure it would have been a trip filled with subtle jabs, and she was sharp enough to realize he’d probably been put up to it. But there was also no lying about the useless organ rattling inside of her ribcage. 

 

“And now I’m here.” She muttered. 

 

“Theo stole that idea, or Narcissa’s idea if we’re technical, right out from under Draco. I thought you should know.” 

 

“Yeah, well, thank you.” Hermione bid her goodbye, sliding her phone into her back pocket, and looking at Theo suspiciously. “You knew that Draco was supposed to be the one to bring me.” She said simply. 

 

He nodded. “I didn’t tell him that I was going to bring you.” 

 

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “Theo, if it weren’t that I wanted to visit here so badly, I’d tell you to take me back to the train station. I loathe liars.” 

 

Theo looked sheepish, but then he opened his mouth. “I didn't lie to you. You’ve said before how he’s a prick, and I thought you wouldn’t enjoy it with him.” 

 

She glared at him. “Whether or not that is true isn’t the point. You lied to your best friend, and that proves to me you’d probably lie to me. You owe him an apology.” Silence. “Let’s have a good time. Afterall, can you imagine if I asked Malfoy whether he knew kangaroos have three vaginas?” 

* * *

 

Ginny was several things to him: best friend since primary that didn’t have a dick, bearer of advice he didn’t fucking ask for, and as of now, previous fuck buddy. 

 

The previous part didn’t bother Draco. They had always been friends, and they would always be friends, but it was the smirk that was on her face that made him want to throw her out of his second story window. It was the same smirk he so often saw in his reflection in the metallic on his bike. She’d invited herself into the manor without calling ahead, and happily thrown herself across his bed. 

 

“How was your Tinder match?” He asked her, kicking her hip while he leaned against the headboard. Draco swiped his carton from the side table, pulling a cigarette from it. “Let me guess, he’s either a complete wanker that doesn’t know the difference in how to satisfy himself, or you.  _ Or  _ he’s a serial killer.” 

 

Ginny shot him her middle finger, laying on her back, and kicking her trainers into the floor. “If you must know, Blaise is wonderful. It was our third date, thank you, and I’m a lady.” The redhead wasn’t even able to keep a straight face. “We haven’t fucked, but he edged  _ me _ .” 

 

“Oi, I wasn’t asking for details. Fuck, Weasley.” 

 

She laughed, continuing anyway. “For nearly a half hour! He made me beg, Malfoy. I had to beg, but I really didn’t come here to tell you how wonderful my boyfriend is with his fingers, or his tongue, or - ” 

 

He gagged. 

 

“Hermione told us how she’s in London.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

“Cut the bullshit, Malfoy. Pansy knows how you were supposed to take her, and I’ve  known you long enough to know it didn’t sit well with you.” She pointed at him accusingly. “Hermione wasn’t very happy when she was told it was supposed to be you. I’d hazard a guess she might fancy you the tiniest bit.” 

 

Draco snorted, taking a long drag and exhaling. “While I don’t doubt it, I’m sure that will pass once Nott charms her knickers off of her.” After arriving home from breakfast with his mother - another long outing, but he was lying if he said he didn’t enjoy her company - Draco had changed back into his pajama bottoms, leaving his shirt off, and pointing the fan towards him. “What’s that fucking look for?” 

 

“Narcissa told Pansy’s mother that you were jealous,” she began tentatively. 

 

His voice was loud, the tall glass of water on the nightstand shaking as he yelled. “What the bloody fuck would I be jealous of?” 

 

Ginny huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Draco, I’ve known you for years, and I’m certain that I can read you almost as well as your mother. It’s just me here; you might as well admit that you’re pissed off Theo stole your idea.” 

 

He reiterated his mother’s words, that it was really her idea, and he had just been along for the ride. “It’s irritating, yeah. If he’d told me why he was asking all of those sodding questions, I would have told him to take her.” 

 

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think you would have. Because you’re captivated by her. No matter how much you like to call her a bossy swot.” 

 

“She’s a never ending pain in my arse.” He hissed. “Quite literally. That girl is a danger magnet if I ever saw one. No matter where she goes, trouble either finds her, or she goes looking for it.” 

 

“Rescuing a kitten is hardly trouble, and Pansy told me all about how you looked when she chased that kid down. You were stunned.” 

 

He nodded. “It’s baffling that anyone could be so stupid, yes.” 

 

“Oh,” she snapped. “Would you just admit it, Malfoy? You’re mad that Theo swooped in because for some reason you wanted to take her.  _ You  _ wanted to mark that little thing off her list,” at his surprised look, she rolled her eyes. “No one else knows, but Theo isn’t known for his tact. He told me this morning at the Leaky.” 

 

Malfoy’s gaze narrowed on her. “You knew he was leaving with her then?” 

 

She made a noise of triumph, smacking her palm against the blanket. “Admit it,” she sang, and it sounded like someone had stepped on Crookshanks tail. “Draco Lucius Malfoy - ”

 

“What do you want me to admit here?” He snarled, tapping the butt of his cigarette against the ashtray on the table, and snuffing it out. He leaned forward menacingly. “Do you want me to admit that everytime she fucking fights with me, I want to snog her to shut her up? Or do you want me to admit that I’d love to fuck her raw?” 

 

Ginny batted her eyelashes innocently. “Well, I just meant you should admit that you don’t despise her, but this is  _ much  _ better.” 

 

“Bitch.” Draco muttered, lighting another cigarette. 

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t let him outdo you,” she murmured. “Do you still have that list?” 

* * *

 

Hermione loved London, but she was happy to have boarded the train at Paddington station, and to be headed home. Her fingers were tingling no matter how she told herself they shouldn’t be. Theo’s fingers had merely brushed against hers. It was nothing - really. She wouldn’t be reacting this way if it were anyone else, like Neville, or Draco - 

 

It was the absolutely wrong train of thought, she realized as the thought of that rugged blond asshole ruined her mood. Her trip with Theo had been lovely, and he’d been nothing short of charming, though she was certain he was laying the foundation to move to something more. 

 

She was supposed to be brilliant after all, but that was okay. For today, Hermione was sure at the minimum she had gained a good friend. 

 

Texting with Pansy however, she had no choice but to admit her disappointment even though it left a bitter taste in her mouth.  _ There’s no reason for me to wish it had been Draco. He’s a jerk to me every chance he gets.  _

 

Pansy typed too quickly for her, and Hermione laughed when she realized that her friend spent a large part of her life on her cellphone.  _ He is a raging prick, I agree. But he’s hot, and nice to look at. Play it off, Granger, and tell me what he’s like when you’re home.  _

 

“I had a lovely time today.” Hermione said, putting her phone in her pocket, and leaning her head against the window as the scenery passed her quickly. The sun was setting, and she hoped she would make it back to Malfoy Manor before Lucius arrived. “Thank you for bringing me.” Her smile was small, and exhaustion threatened to swallow her whole. 

 

Theo nodded, putting his back to the window, and resting his arm on the table. “It was fun. Maybe we can do it again sometime.” 

 

Hermione sincerely doubted she would jump so willingly into a one on one outing again, but nodded anyway. “I’d like that, but maybe we can stay closer to home. This was exhausting.” Taking taxis through the tight streets of London that had clearly not been made for automobiles, Hermione found that she never wanted to back inside of those taxis. She’d been thrown against Theo far too many times. 

 

“Get some sleep,” he told her, his hand creeping across the table to poke her wrist. “I’ll wake you when we get there.” 

 

She managed to agree, his voice slurred, before she passed out with her cheek pressed against the smooth glass. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione walked up to the front door of the manor, carrying her gift from Theo in her hands. He did seem a bit off, and Hermione realized she might smooth things over again, but it was a worry for her future self. The door was unlocked and she stepped inside, wiping her converse on the mat inside the front door. 

 

“Surprise!” Chorused several voices. 

 

“Oh, fuck!” She yelled, nearly jumping out of her skin, and the box flew right out of her hands - 

 

-And Draco caught it easily, his eyes roaming over her, and his eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline when he took in the sweater that slid off her shoulders. “It’s a bloody miracle you can even walk.” He told her, tossing the box back to her, which was  a terrible idea. 

 

She nodded stiffly. Hermione was wrapped into a hug by Lucius, one that she returned with one arm due to the tight grip on the box. 

 

Lucius and Narcissa, along with her newest friends had planned a party for her, with a large cake in the dining room. Sitting beside Draco for two hours set her on nerve, and no, she absolutely did not care that his knee kept knocking into hers. 

 

She felt like she could have cut the tension with a knife as she sat between Malfoy and Theo. Hermione didn’t have a clue why Draco was angry anyway, considering he had made it inexplicably clear he didn’t like her. It would have been nice to say everything was fine, but that proved not to be the case. 

 

After everyone had left, Hermione took a deep breath, glancing down at her pajamas, and knocked on his bedroom door. It swung open to reveal Draco, and she wanted to roll her eyes at the cliche surprise that he was shirtless. “Can I help you?” As she opened her mouth to reply, he rasped “The answer is no, Granger.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

“You’ll have to be a bit more clear. Are you sorry for existing? For being a pain in my arse? Or for constantly getting yourself into trouble.” 

 

She stomped down the feeling of her bottom lip begin to tremble. “I meant I’m sorry for today. Truly, I had no idea you were going to take me until Pansy told me. If I had known, I wouldn’t have gone with Theo, and I needed to get that off my chest.” 

 

The bastard laughed, a low, delicious sound. “I don’t give a fuck that Theo took you to see London. As far as I’m concerned,” he shrugged, “Theo did me a favor. I didn’t have to babysit you, and I was able to enjoy my day without you irritating me.” 

 

Her shoulders fell. “I’ve never done anything to you.” She whispered, and Hermione blinked away tears before looking back up at him. She was  _ not  _ going to cry in front of him no matter what. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, but he looked horrified by the way her eyes watered. “I’m sorry that you’ve had to help me out of a tree, and help me when I chased down a mugger, and I’m bloody sorry,” the English slang didn’t sound quite right rolling off of her tongue, “I screamed for you when Antonin wanted to hurt me,” 

 

“Granger, look, I shouldn’t - ” it sounded like an apology, but that wasn’t possible for him, she was sure. 

 

“You’re an asshole. When I was home, I was constantly reminded that I didn’t fit in, and I didn’t travel across an ocean to let some British jerk make me feel small.” 

 

“Hermione,” he cleared his throat, grabbing her shoulder as she turned on her heel. 

 

Hermione spun quickly, and slapped him, leaving a red imprint of her palm. Her hand stung, and she shook it as her eyes watered even more from the pain. “Fuck you, Draco.” She muttered, rushing into her room and turning the lock into place. 

 

Laying in her bed, she clutched a pillow to her chest, and told her mother, if it was possible for her to even be listening, that this was the worst birthday of her life. 


	6. Foot - Meet Mouth

Hermione wasn’t used to college - university - starting in October. September had felt like another month added to her break, and it was for the best. It had given her time to accept her mother’s death, and to fully settle into a life abroad. Now, all she could think about was how slow the day would seem to pass, and it was only because she couldn’t wait to find her way to the library. 

 

And plus, it gave her a few extra weeks to become accustomed to the cold shoulder Draco constantly gave her. After her outburst, which she would like to acknowledge didn’t cause her to have the worst birthday of her life, he had knocked quietly on her door. The doorknob had twisted below his grip when he called her name softly, but she hadn’t had the nerve to answer the door. Malfoy was sure to tell her how she’d better never strike him again. And she couldn’t drum up the patience to deal with it. 

 

Strangely, when she had seen him in the kitchen the next morning, he had nothing to say. He handed her the wanderlust mug, the handle braced against his fingers as he held it out to her, but he didn’t even look at her. She supposed it was as close as an apology as she was going to get, but Hermione said nothing. Taking her mug with her, she’d sat on the porch - which she had done every morning since. She liked to think it got under his skin that  _ she  _ was the one ignoring  _ him.  _

 

A message from Pansy awaited her as she tugged a sweater over head, and her phone vibrated against the comforter. 

 

_ Are you excited?  _ Pansy was really her opposite, and Hermione had made the joke more than once that she thought of her new best friend as her inner self confidence. Above her message was the photo Pansy had sent a day earlier, along with a video. 

 

Pansy had chopped her hair off, sending a snap shot of her newest look while looking dramatically...at something. The video had Hermione giggling, her laughter echoing throughout her room as she played it once more. It showed Pansy walking into the living room of her shared flat with Harry, and then the question;  _ “What do you think?”  _

 

_ Silence. “Did you..did you cut all of your hair off, or is that a wig?”  _

 

There was a sharp knock on her door, followed by Draco’s raspy voice. He must have just woken up, and it sounded like he was still half asleep. “Don’t take too long.” 

 

Hermione’s mouth snapped shut. He knew she had heard him since her laughter had stopped, and she hoped it irritated him. She grabbed her bag, settling the strap on her shoulder, and leaned against the wall while she put on her shoes. Flipping off the light, Hermione made her way past the bathroom where she could hear the sound of running water, and down the stairs. 

 

Narcissa smiled at her from her spot at the table, lifting her mug to show her. “I managed to use your keurig this morning without breaking it.” She boasted, and Hermione’s heart melted when Lucius peeked over his newspaper, his eye softening. “I would have made you a cup, but Lucius told me I put too much sugar in mine.” 

 

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Hermione insisted, bending forward to take the cup she offered. She set her bag in one of the empty chairs, her strap hanging over it. 

 

Lucius shook his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He muttered, lifting a mug of his own. “She tried to make me a cup this morning, and I’ve decided I’d rather just have black coffee.” 

 

Narcissa must have kicked him beneath the table. “You say that as if I’m no good in a kitchen.” 

 

“You burnt -”

 

“It was twenty years ago,” Narcissa muttered. “And it was one bloody time,” 

 

Hermione sniggered, masking her laugh by lifting her hand to her mouth. “If it’s any consolation, I’m awful in a kitchen. Mum,” she noticed the British slang already working its way into her day to day life. “wouldn’t let me near the kitchen. I did bake her a cake for her birthday last year, which I burnt.” 

 

Lucius snorted, snapping the morning paper up so she wouldn’t see him laughing. Not that it mattered considering she could hear it. “What did she say then?” 

 

She looked a tad wistful, swaying side to side while tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “She didn’t say anything, actually. She ate it without telling me how awful it was, even when it crunched.” Hermione needed not to mention how cake was not meant to crunch when the man opposite her choked on his laugh. “Alright, the coffee, right.”

 

Hermione would have masked her reaction, but there was no hope. She couldn’t swallow it at all, and rushed to the sink to spit it out. “It’s a bit sweet.” She managed, bending over from laughing. Narcissa looked at her utterly scandalized, turning her nose up at him. “I just need,” she rummaged through the fridge, grabbing the first thing she saw - a carton of orange juice. 

 

There was only a tiny bit left, so she didn’t bother with a glass. Instead tipping it to her mouth, and desperately trying to get the awful taste out of her mouth. Heavy foot falls sounded behind her, and she knew he was definitely wearing his boots, and she didn’t want to turn around to see him fresh out of a shower. Not with his hair still hanging in his face, and well, he affected her more than she would ever care to admit. 

 

The refrigerator door opened, and then closed almost immediately. And then... “Where’s my orange juice?” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes at her awful fucking luck, and turned to face him, finding him to look exactly how she knew he would. Draco stood opposite her, wearing a pair of dark jeans, and his boots, staring down at her, his eyes flicking to her lips - even though she didn’t notice. His hair was still wet, and deliciously tousled from running his fingers through it. “It doesn’t have your name on it,” she mumbled, pressing the empty carton against his chest. Their fingers brushed as she ripped her hands away. 

 

“You fucking -” Draco cut himself off, swallowing, and his eyes softened, or was it a trick of the light?  “it’s fine.” He finished, throwing the carton into the trash can, and shoving his hands in his front pockets. 

 

She blinked. “Are you..are you being nice to me? I would have never thought - ” 

 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a rampaging bitch all the time -”

 

“ _ Me? _ Have you ever tried to carry on a conversation with yourself? I’m sure you have, considering you’re the worst narcissist I’ve ever met -” 

 

“You are such a -” Hermione continued, her body leaning towards him while they argued.

 

Quietly, and completely unnoticed, Narcissa held her hand out beneath the table to collect a few bills from her husband, a triumphant smile twisting her lips.

* * *

 

Hermione leaned her temple against the cool glass as he slid into the driver’s side seat. There was a wry grin that curved his lips, and she thought it might have been from the quarrel in the kitchen. It wasn’t like when she’d slapped him, which she was happy to say had made her feel so much better. He’d got her blood pumping, and the previous venom that had been there was missing. 

 

It was almost as if he enjoyed bickering with her, but Hermione didn’t entertain the thought for long. When a song she enjoyed came on, she leaned forward to turn it up, and it was clear she had no intentions of speaking at all. 

 

Oxford University was in a word, breathtaking. As someone who had hoped she would travel, that she would see the looming architectures from worlds that seemed so far away, she was stunned into silence. 

 

Pansy met her at her side of the car, yanking her into a tight hug even though it had only been twenty four hours since she’s last saw her. 

 

“Ron’s back,” she called to Draco, shaking her finger accusingly. “try not to be a complete arsehole to him, yeah?” Pansy led Hermione to a group of people who sat around a table, while Malfoy trailed behind them. 

 

The only man she did not recognize had shaggy red hair, and it hung in his face. She assumed this must be Ron, but then with her eyes moving from him to Ginny, she made the connection. “Siblings?” Pansy nodded. “And Malfoy doesn’t like him?” 

 

Her friend tried to mask her laugh by coughing. “That’s putting it mildly. They haven’t gotten along for years, and even before Ginny, Draco loathed him.” 

 

Biting the bullet, Hermione asked; “So, Ginny is Draco’s ex girlfriend then?” 

 

“More like an ex something, but they’ve been best friends since primary. He’s just as close with her as he is with Theo.” Hermione nodded at Pansy’s words. “Though something is going on with Draco and Theo. Theo is normally the first one here in the mornings. I guess Malfoy might still be upset about the whole London thing.” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think so, given the way he was an asshole to me when I apologized to him. I apologized when I hadn’t even done anything wrong!” 

 

“Oh?” Draco drawled, looking between the two of them. “Forget I was here, Granger?” 

 

She turned her nose up at him, gripping the strap of her backpack while slinging it over one shoulder. “Not bloody likely given you’re always there. I was talking about you, not to you.” 

 

He grumbled a response under his breath as she followed Pansy to a seat across from Ron. Harry was seated beside him, clapping him on the back while they laughed about something. Even if she’d heard it, Hermione had the feeling it wouldn’t have been funny to her anyway. Setting her bag on the concrete, Hermione crossed her ankles, and sat in silence. 

 

Out of the crowd of people she recognized her housemate, who she’d rather not talk to, Pansy, who was talking excitedly with Harry, and then Harry. She didn’t know Ron at all, but that didn’t stop him from talking over everyone to introduce himself. 

 

“Hermione, right? Harry told me about you.” 

 

She laughed, when it came out nervously she just wished she hadn’t laughed at all. “Yeah, I’m Hermione Granger. I have no idea what he’s told you since I’ve only been here for a month, but yeah, that’s me.” 

 

“Oh,” he chuckled. “Harry had plenty to say, didn’t you, mate?” Again, he slapped his hand against Harry’s back with a loud  _ smack _ . “If he weren’t so sickenly in love with his girlfriend, I might have been worried about what I was coming home to.” 

 

She gave him an odd look. “He told you about Granger Danger, didn’t he?” A nod. “Yes, I suppose I will never be living that down, considering the first thing I did was chase someone who stole an old lady’s purse. Where were you this summer?” 

 

“Romania, visiting my older brother Charlie, but -” Ron tried to wave off this information like it was nothing. Which maybe it was nothing to him, but Hermione jumped at this. 

 

Her eyes wide, she asked “What is it like there? I’ve only seen pictures, and I’ve never traveled.” 

 

He blinked. “It’s...it’s Romania. My older brother works there, and Mum usually makes the trip with Dad, but they were too busy this summer to leave. So I went instead. I don’t know how to describe it.” 

 

“What’s the weather like compared to here then?” She leaned forward, resting her chin in the hands, eager to hear everything about another country. 

 

“It’s bloody hot,” he complained, but he seemed to flourish under the attention she gave him. Which really, she just wanted information she could have gotten from the internet, but she let him think whatever he wanted. “It reached thirty five degrees in July, and I don’t understand how Charlie works outside.” 

 

“What does Charlie do?” Hermione asked, catching Pansy’s not to subtle look from the corner of her eye. 

 

“Research, mostly, but he works with endangered species.” 

 

“Really? That sounds fascinating, what species does he work with?”

 

Ron, however, had reached the end of his knowledge. How could he spend months in another country and not know anything about the events going on around him? 

 

“Heard how you give Malfoy hell too.” 

 

It was a bad turn in conversation, and she knew it. These men didn’t get along, and gossiping about it would only make her life harder. 

 

“Sometimes when he deserves it, but I don’t think he’s a bad person.” Hermione hedged, glancing around to see if Malfoy was standing close enough to hear. 

 

She gave a jump in her seat when someone leaned over her, placing their palms against the table. The top of her head knocked against his chin. 

 

“I’m beginning to think that you don’t really scare this easily, and you’re just fond of injuring me.” Malfoy said. He’d bitten his tongue because of her, and sounded as if he had a lisp. “Still trying to turn everyone against me, Weasley? Even Hermione knows I’m not an awful person.” 

 

Irritated, she put her face in her hands. Draco’s body heat radiated against her body, and really, it was comical how she got herself into these situations. “You’re still a jerk to me.” She mumbled. “For all I know, Ron has a reason to hate you, but I don’t.” 

 

“Yeah, he fucked my sister.” Ron snarled, standing from the table. 

 

“If you haven’t heard, she got a boyfriend over the summer, so I’m not fucking her anymore.” This information rolled off Draco’s tongue, and she could feel his shrug while he hovered over her. “Granger, he’s just angry that I took his little sister’s virginity.”

 

Ron’s face grew red. “You -” 

 

Ginny’s voice cut through the air as she walked to the end of the table, glaring. “Ron, it’s none of your business.” She pointed at Draco. “And you, you know you shouldn’t antagonize him. You even promised me you wouldn’t.” 

 

He shrugged again. “If he didn’t make it so easy, I wouldn’t.” 

 

Hermione scurried out from under him, shouldering her bag. “As fun as it was to meet you, I’ll be going now.” She muttered, waving a goodbye to Ron. 

 

Ginny gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, they’re always like this.” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “Oh, no, don’t apologize to me. It doesn’t affect me at all, but it’s too awkward to hear about it.” She was turning away when Ron stepped forward quickly, his fingers curled into a tight fist, and his face as red as his hair. 

 

She grabbed Draco by his sleeve, pulling him toward her, and sticking her foot out to trip Ron before he could throw a punch. “The two of you are ridiculous.” She snapped. “So what if Draco slept with your sister? It’s her body - she can do whatever, excuse me, whomever she wants, and it’s not your business.” Hermione turned on her heel, shaking her head, and stormed towards her first class. 

 

It was an awful idea, considering she had no idea where anything was. Oxford University loomed in front of her, intimidating, but she’d be damned if she admitted she needed help. 

 

Malfoy grabbed hold of the handle at the top of her backpack, rolling his eyes, and pulling her in another direction. “Slughorn, right?” 

 

She nodded. “Could you let go of me?” 

 

“Could you ask for help the next time you need it?” He retorted, but let her go, and slowed his pace for her. “Weasley wouldn’t have hit me.” 

 

She scoffed, looking up at him. He looked so much better when his jaw wasn’t clenched angrily, like it so often was when she was around. He struck her as the type of man who would put gel in his hair, like his father, but it was disheveled. Given his habit of running his fingers through the soft, blond strands, it was probably for the best. But each time he did it, she wanted to see if it was just as soft as it looked. 

 

“He looked like he was going to hit you. I think we can agree that was his goal, and he moved rather quickly.” 

 

“Not really. Sure, he would have tried to hit me, but that doesn’t mean he would have succeeded.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, tearing her eyes away from him. “Have you had Professor Slughorn before?” She asked quietly, following him down the corridor. Staring up at the high vaulted ceilings, she missed the way his eyes moved over her. “It’s really beautiful here.” 

 

“Nothing that you’re used to back home then?” 

 

She laughed, her shoulder bumping against someone else’s. The petite, blonde glared at her for a moment when she apologized, but the twisted grimace vanished when she looked at Malfoy. 

 

“How was your summer, Draco?” 

 

A shiver ran down Hermione’s spine when he looked down, and directly at her, his gaze lingering before replying. “Eventful.” He gripped Hermione by her arm, and pulled her around the corner and down another corridor. “That’s Astoria, and I’d sooner gouge my own eyes out before I have to carry on a conversation with her.” 

 

Hermione choked on her laugh. “Alright.” But still, she was certain she wouldn’t be getting the memory of how he looked over her out of her brain anytime soon. “To answer your question, no I’m not used to architecture this extravagant. Universities in Oklahoma don’t look like castles.” 

 

He nodded, the corner of his lips lifting into a barely there smirk. “Slughorn is eccentric. I have no doubt he will be inviting you to Slug Club by the end of the week, if not by the end of the day.” 

 

Her eyebrows drew together. “What is Slug Club, and why would I want to go to something with that horrendous name?”

 

He snorted. “It’s a play on his name, but I agree. It’s made up of his favorite students, the ones that he believes will be important one day. More often than not, there are influential guests there that mingle with the party guests. Which yes, he throws these lavish parties at the end of each semester, and I have sat painstakingly through every one of them.” 

 

“He thinks you’ll be influential?” She asked, regretting it when his lips pursed together. “That’s not how I meant it at all. Clearly you already are since you help Lucius with his company, and you go on trips in his place. I’m just -” she broke off, staring at the grounds outside of the window. The grass was a lush green, and being two stories up gave her an even better vantage point of the city. “I’m just skilled at putting my foot in my mouth.”

 

“How dreadful you can’t put that on your resume.” He said dryly, but her eyes lit up at the smile that crossed his face. “Adept at putting foot in mouth, goes along with constantly offending others by mistake.” 

 

She muffled her laugh with the back of her hand. “You’re prettier when you smile.” She blurted before cringing. “How do I get to the roof? I’m going to throw myself off of it now.” 

 

He sniggered. “Thanks for the backhanded compliment. I won’t tell anyone you think I’m gorgeous.” 

 

“I said you were pretty!” She snapped. 

 

He bent down to whisper in her ear. “There is a student right behind us that heard that.” Her cheeks burned and she shook her head. “It’s not a big deal, Granger. I’m attractive, and like you said, you are prone to embarrassing yourself.” He stopped them in front of a lecture hall while she folded her arms across her chest. “Whether Weasley would have hit me or not, I should probably thank you for tripping him.” 

 

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you thanking me?” 

 

He slid his hands into the pockets of his wool coat, looking over her head as if he were deciding what to say. The coat was tight around his shoulders, where she averted her eyes the moment he looked back at her. “No,” he decided finally, “definitely not.”

 

It didn’t quite make her angry as it should have, though she was still irritated with him from her birthday. Instead she shook her head, and took a seat near the front of the room, and it had probably been too much to hope for that she wouldn’t be the center of attention. 

 

She was the foreign exchange student after all. 

  
  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s a bit shorter than normal, but it would have turned into things that I didn’t quite need to further the story. Like how her classes run, which is more of an overview than me taking you through each one because let’s face it, it would probably get boring. Next chapter is another bucket list item...this time with DRACO!
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter, and every chapter, and basically the whole fic is dedicated to CourtingInsanity because she is my number one cheerleader, and one of my closest friend. My laptop broke two nights ago, and I was going to take a hiatus until December when I could purchase a new one. She replaced my laptop, so you, lovely readers that you are, should go read her stories, and leave her a lot of love. She more than deserves it.
> 
>  
> 
> And then the boring bits - whether you are reading this on AO3, or FFN, I didn’t give away my plot in the tags, or summary for a reason. There is a lot to unfold, and this will go from slow burn to on fire to ice.
> 
>  
> 
> I replied on tumblr, but have no way of knowing if this anonymous reviewer has tumblr. No, Hermione is not a virgin, but I don’t see how that pertains to this story at all right now.
> 
>  
> 
> I can’t wait to hear what you all think!


	7. Bucket List # 4 & 12 - Tattoos and Motorcycles

Professor Slughorn was the most eccentric man she’d ever met, with how he bounced around the topic in his class - from  _ did you know?  _ sorts of random facts that had nothing to do with the essay she had due on Friday. By the end of the week, she had obtained too much useless knowledge on a certain kind of wine that he would be serving at the Christmas party for Slug Club. 

 

Horace Slughorn was a nice person, or she assumed he was. She didn’t think it was possible to have so many connections, and individuals to talk to if you were a horrendous person. Although when he turned his attention to her as their lecture released, her fellow peers already pouring into the corridor, Hermione had pretended his shouts fell on deaf ears. 

 

As a result of what she considered to be a shitty teaching style even though she would have gone anyway, Hermione went to the library. She walked slowly into the building - thrilled it had its own building - to take in the sights. It had high vaulted ceilings like the university, and there was a soft light throughout the library. 

 

She found the books she needed, and claimed a table for herself. Drawing the thin laptop from her backpack, she opened it and set to opening the first three tabs of research she would need. 

 

It was how Theo found her two hours later. “Mind if I join you?” he asked her quietly, pulling the chair out when she nodded. He opened a book across from her while resting his temple against his knuckles while he propped his elbow up against the table. “Malfoy was looking for you earlier,” he said suddenly. “Have you talked to him already?” 

 

Hermione glanced up, shaking her head. “No, I’ve been here since my classes ended.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I can just send him a message -” she started, pulling her phone from her back pocket, but three clicks against the power button told her that her phone was indeed dead. “Um, can I use yours?” 

 

Theo nodded, handing her the phone, a much larger model than hers that was cracked through the front and back. At the surprised look on her face, he defended “Hey, it’s completely made of glass. Poor planning if you ask me.” 

 

“What’s the password?” 

 

“Nott, on the keyboard,” he muttered, returning to his textbook. 

 

Hermione pointed out that his password choice wasn’t very secure, and he just shook his head, a smile playing at the side of his lips. Still, she found Draco’s name in his contacts. She looked back at him; he was only reading, and fully distracted. If she wanted to know what had caused his semi fallout with Malfoy, it wouldn’t be hard to just scroll to his messages, but she told herself no. It certainly wasn’t her business even if Theo hadn’t come by the manor in the last week. 

 

Realizing she’d taken long enough for it to seem suspicious, Hermione pressed call, and held the phone to her ear. 

 

“What do you want?” he snapped. 

 

Her stomach sank even though that tone wasn’t directed toward her, not really. “Um, hello?” she stammered at first, flipping a page in her notebook beside her to a clean sheet. “Theo said you were looking for me earlier. I’m so sorry. I lost track of the time in the library, and my phone was dead.” 

 

She heard him sigh heavily, and she could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose while he reigned in his temper. “Okay. You’re with Theo?” he asked. 

 

“He just walked into the library. I asked if I could use his phone,” Hermione replied. “Oh, it’s nearly nine oclock.” 

 

There was a laugh on the other end of the line, and Theo looked up at the sound. His eyes were wide. “Alright, well, I’m about to meet Harry, and Pansy at the Leaky if you’d like to come. I can come by, and pick you up,” Draco told her. 

 

Hermione glanced down at the work she’d done. Technically it was more than enough to allow herself to take a break, but she hesitated. “How long do you think we’d be there for? I have a bit more research to get done.” 

 

Theo cleared his throat. “I can take you when you’re done,” he offered. 

 

“That’s okay, but thank you,” Hermione told Theo, holding the phone with her shoulder while she stacked her papers from Slughorn’s class together and slid them into her notebook. “Malfoy, how soon can you be here? It’s freezing outside, and I left my coat in Professor Slughorn’s when I ran to get away from him.” 

 

He snorted, and then it sounded as if he was muffling his laugh with his hand. “I’ll bring you something warm. I’m riding my bike, so you’ll need it. Why don’t you just wait inside where it’s warm? I’ll only be ten minutes.” 

* * *

 

It was a shitty thing to do to his friend, especially his best mate since they had been children. Draco realized it, but it hadn’t stopped him from offering to pick her up. Meeting Pansy and Harry hadn’t been a lie, but he knew that dangling her newest friend in front of her was bound to get her moving. 

 

Adding the part about his bike, it was in part because he knew it was on that bloody list. It had made him laugh at first. So many things on this bucket list she’d created were things that seemed utterly plain to him, but the other half of them were related to traveling. He’d realized it when he watched how taken she was with Oxford, with how her eyes lit up when they took in the ceilings that were centuries old. 

 

He’d let himself into her room before grabbing his keys, rifling through her closet to find a jumper for her, but none of them were made for warmth. Fucking birds. Grumbling under his breath, he’d gone back into his own room, and grabbed a pullover that he didn’t wear anymore. He knew she had a jumper that she’d bought at some shop she’d gone to with Pansy, but he wasn’t about to rifle through all of her belongings. 

 

He slung the dark green over his shoulder, one of his spares he used to wear during rugby matches while in sixth form. Draco went down the stairs two at a time, settling his hand against the banister as he jumped to the bottom, his boots thudding against the linoleum. Snatching his keys from the decorative bowl his mother kept at the base of the stairs, he thought he’d be able to leave the house without her noticing. 

 

“Where are you off to?” she asked him, peeking her head out from the sitting room. She was dressed like she was getting ready to leave as well, with a blue dress flowing to his knees, and a pair of heels. 

 

“Going to get Granger from the library,” he answered. “I asked her if she wanted to go to the Leaky with me to meet Pansy, and Harry.” 

 

Narcissa nodded, lifting a glass of wine to her lips as she stepped out from the kitchen. “Oh? Did you volunteer to pick her up?” 

 

“I can’t exactly make her walk home, and I assumed she’d lost track of time. She probably would have gotten locked inside of the library if Theo hadn’t told her I was looking for her earlier.” 

 

She hummed to herself, taking dainty sips of her wine as if she couldn’t drink it in two good swallows. His father appeared behind her in the doorway, dressed in a black suit, and he was adjusting his tie before his hand settled at his mother’s waist. “What’s going on?” Lucius asked. 

 

“Oh, nothing,” Narcissa replied flippantly, turning to face her husband. “You have lipstick here,” she muttered, wiping away the red mark on his neck with her thumb. “It’s on your shirt too,” she hissed, nearly dropping her wine glass. 

 

More than content to leave his parents before his mum launched off into an explanation of how her red lipstick ended up on his father’s collar - which would be something she was only doing to make him feel awkward - Draco tried to get away for them. He wasn’t even as far as the door that would lead into the garage when she called out. 

 

“Draco was just telling me he volunteered to pick Hermione up. Though I’m sure Theo would have been happy to do so, but it seems to me he didn’t want that. For some reason,” she added airily. 

 

His eyes narrowed on his father, on his mother’s bright smile that he could see through the glass she attempted to hide behind, and on his father’s grin, and the way there were wrinkles next to his eyes when his lips curved into a smile. “Oi, fuck off,” Draco muttered under his breath before opening the door, and letting it slam shut behind him. 

 

Oxford was fifteen minutes away, and the campus was nearly empty, save for what he could only assume were the vehicles of staff, and then Theo’s car. Clenching his jaw at the sight of the red two door, he realized striking up a fight with his friend wouldn’t do any good, and it would lead to curious questions that he had no desire to dwell on. 

 

Draco clenched the handles on his bike tightly, looking toward the door to see Granger’s familiar figure standing on the inside of the glass. She had one leg crossed over the other, one of her hands in her hair, and she was looking at her phone with a scowl. The lights of the main entrance were out, so the glare from her cell phone illuminated her face, and he was certain he was the only one who made her scowl like that. 

 

Parking, and kicking the stand of his bike down, he grabbed the jumper from the bag on the side and flexed his fingers around it as he made his way inside. “Thought your phone was dead, Granger?” 

 

She didn’t look up at him, but he could see the lengthy wall of text she was staring at. “Theo had a charger. It’s at fifteen percent, but I’m sure it won’t last long.” 

 

“What are you looking at?” he asked her, throwing the jumper in her face. “Just let me see,” Malfoy muttered, taking her phone from her. 

 

She shouted at him, tugging the garment over her hair, which was piled into an obnoxiously tall bun. “Give that back, Malfoy.” Granger grumbled, reaching for her phone, and he just stood on his toes, holding her phone up to where she couldn’t reach it. “For fucks sake, are you twelve years old?” she hissed. 

 

He glanced down at her. His shirt was askew, slipping from her right shoulder, and tendrils of her hair had slipped into her face, though she tried to push them out of the way. “I'm twenty three, thank you.” There were dark circles under her eyes, and smudged make up showing that she hadn’t been sleeping. Something he pointed out to her while reading the status on her social media. 

 

“I don’t sleep well at night. I think I’ve slept eight hours total since this week started. Would you  _ please _ give me my phone back now?” 

 

“Who the  _ fuck _ is this guy, and why does he think that he can message you to tell you to do his homework?” Malfoy asked her quietly, but his anger creeped into his voice. 

 

She fell silent, looking at her shoes before glaring at him once more. “Adrian is just some jerk from home, Malfoy. When my mum -” she broke off; she had an adorable habit when she had to stop whenever she used British slang, and he found it a bit too endearing. “I wrote some of his papers for him in university because I needed the money. I had a part time job, but it was hard with her medical bills stacking up.” 

 

His nostrils flared, looking from her, and back to her phone. “What a fucking prick. And he’s threatening to tell your headmaster that you did so if you don’t continue?” 

 

Slowly, Granger nodded. “It would cost me the trip here, to be honest,” she mumbled under her breath. “Dippet would be so disappointed, and I - well, I don’t want to go home. There’s nothing there.” She blinked, clearly trying not to cry at the thought of going back to America. 

 

Malfoy nodded. “Right then, I can fix that,” he told her simply, reaching up with his thumb to press the button for a video call. 

 

Granger was nodding, until she realized exactly what he said, and her eyes widened. “Wait, what does that mean? Draco - are you calling him?” she gasped, and he turned on his heel to get away from her. 

 

Malfoy has assumed she wouldn’t follow him into the loo, but he’d been ultimately wrong as this Adrian answered, appearing on the other line, just as soon as the door slammed open. Granger jumped onto his back when he turned away from her, trying to reach down for her phone. Her efforts were fruitless, since all he had to do was lean down with her on his back, and she would just wrap her arms tightly around his neck so as not to fall. 

 

“You’re Adrian, right?” He didn’t curb his sneer, though if Granger didn’t stop holding him so tightly - and did she  _ have  _ to wrap her legs around his goddamn waist? - it would be hard to hold. 

 

The boy looked like an utter ponce, with a hat turned backwards, and he was shirtless. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked, and Malfoy instantly decided that not only was he a ponce, he was a ponce without manners. 

 

“Draco. Stop messaging Granger to do your fucking assignments,” he snarled. “Shut up, Granger. If you’re not going to take care of it, I’m going to,” he muttered back to her when she tried to argue. “I don’t give a fuck if she helped you before. If you threaten her scholarship again -” 

 

Adrian laughed, bringing a beer to his lips. “You’ll do what? Crabbe, come here. It looks like Granger found someone to defend her.” 

 

Draco’s lips set into a scowl. If there wasn’t a bloody ocean in the way, he swore. “There’s an awful lot of messages here from you, most of them being aggressive. This Dippet,” he muttered, feeling her clutch his jumper in between her fingers as a warning, “would surely understand Hermione chose to do your work to help her mother.” Malfoy sneered, and though it was out of sight of the camera, he squeezed her hand as if he was telling her it was fine. “It would come across that you were using her, something I’m sure I could convince him of.” 

 

“Why the fuck do you even care -” 

 

Draco cut him off, still bent at an awkward angle with her on his back. Though if she tried to get down, she’d probably fall on her arse. “It’s none of your business why I care.” 

 

“Are you her boyfriend?” 

 

Draco rolled her eyes. “Sure,” he muttered. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”he hissed at her, turning his head to face her after she’d shrieked directly into his ear. “Look - ” he turned back to the screen. “ - if you bother her again, I’m going to call this Headmaster Dippet -” 

 

“They aren’t called headmasters in the states, Draco,” she said, just loud enough for the two boys on the other end to hear. 

 

“Who cares?” he retorted, ignoring the fact that when she told him that, she’d slumped forward and nearly pressed her lips against his. It must have been the most cliche  _ almost _ he’d ever heard of, but again he  _ was _ in the men’s loo with her hanging onto him because she was clumsy. “Regardless, I will call him, and the end result is that you fail. And if it were to cost Hermione her scholarship, then I would just pay for her tuition here.” 

 

Adrian stared at him open mouthed, until he spoke again, and he wished more than anything there wasn’t an ocean preventing Draco from breaking his nose. “Holy shit, is she paying you with sex?”

 

His teeth grinded together as his mouth clamped shut. “No, she’s bloody not.”

 

Hermione strained to reach forward, and hang up the call. “Would you please help me down so I don’t fall?” she mumbled, ignoring his laugh, and the way his body shook under hers when his laughter echoed against the tile walls. “My phone is already dead because of you.” She pointed out. 

 

Malfoy crouched down, letting her slide to her feet. “Let’s go. Pansy probably thinks I’ve killed you by now,” he told her, grabbing the door, and letting her pass him.

 

Granger stopped immediately, a loud groan escaping her. “Hey, this is not -” 

 

Theo stood in front of him, his hands shoved into his pockets while he took the sight of both of them in. Looking to Malfoy as if they were on opposing sides, before he looked back at Granger. “I think you put the wrong shirt on,” Theo told her, motioning to the large jumper that engulfed her small frame. 

 

She shook her head, waving her hands in front of herself. “No, no. We weren’t doing anything like that. I don’t know why he brought me this to change into, but -” 

 

“Because I looked, and you don’t own anything warm,” Draco interjected, shrugging, still smirking behind her. 

 

Theo looked like he didn’t believe them at all. “Right,” he drawled. “Which perfectly explains why the two of you were in the loo together. It’s not my business; I heard you scream, and thought I should make sure you were okay. Clearly you were.” 

 

“I’m not going to murder her, you know,” Draco said. “We should get going. We’re already late.” 

 

She was blushing, the red tinge creeping down her neck as she rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “It’s a long, ridiculous story, but really, I was not fucking Malfoy in the bathroom.” Granger said, the expletive sounding crass, and far too good on her tongue.  “If you’d like to come to the Leaky...” She trailed off at his nod. “Maybe I’ll see you the next time in the library then.” Granger smiled, and waved to him, bending down to grab her backpack on the way out.

* * *

 

When they got home from the Leaky Cauldron that night, Lucius and Narcissa were still out. There was a note on the kitchen table to tell them they were likely to be out all night. Draco had snorted behind her when she read it outloud. “What are you laughing about?” 

 

He handed her the wanderlust mug from the cupboard, and he turned on the electric kettle. “Nothing.” Malfoy shrugged. “You weren’t here to see them before they left is all. My mother was already tipsy.” 

 

Hermione smiled, turning on her keurig, and tugging his jumper over her head. Balling it up, and leaving it on the counter, Hermione was left in her thin shirt. She hadn’t expected the temperature to drop so quickly. “Sounds like she was having a good time then. She deserves a break.” 

 

Draco nodded to her, folding her arms across his chest. “She’s feeling better now; she gave us all a scare a last month.” Hermione didn’t reply beyond humming to herself, and swaying from side to side. “How was Slughorn?” 

 

She turned to face him, her smile slipping from her face. “He might be the most annoying man I’ve ever met in my life,” she blurted angrily, motioning with her hands, and frowning at his loud laughter. “He talked more about this ridiculous Slug Club than the actual lecture. The reason I was in the library for so long was because I had to teach myself to entire lecture. And then -” Hermione launched into another tirade, and Malfoy just glanced at her, nodding along. “I’m absolutely positive he was about to invite me to his little club.” 

 

Malfoy smirked. “No doubt about that. What did you do? He’s impossible to say no to. He’ll wear you down.” 

 

“I got the fuck out of there as fast as I could is what I did,” she said flatly. “I was not at all interested in that conversation.” 

 

His eyebrows drew together. “You...ran away from him?” At her nod, he mused, “You know, I never tried that.” 

 

She gave a small shrug. “It’s hard to coerce me into his parties if he can’t talk to me. Do you always go to them?” 

 

“As boring as they can be, it’s always nice to watch my peers make fools out of themselves. Weasley was so angry he was never invited that one year Potter took him as his plus one.” 

 

“Right, Weasley,” she groaned, rolling her eyes, and she was still angry for Ginny with her older brother’s reaction to her personal life. “Is he always such a prick? I’m not sure how Ginny hasn’t nipped that in the bud.” 

 

He turned away from her, prepping his tea before answering her. “I don’t know. I’ve always thought he was a prat, but I suppose I’ve never liked him. I’ve been friends with Ginny, and Theo since we were toddlers.” 

 

Hermione hopped onto the counter, moving her keurig over so she wouldn’t knock it into the sink. She crossed her legs, and braced her palms against the counters’ edge. “Right, and then at some point you slept with Ginny, and then he was angry about that? Or has he always hated you?” 

 

Another shrug, and she realized that he wasn’t particularly forthcoming, and she was probably lucky he’d said as much as he had. “He never liked me.” 

 

“Why not? What did you do to him?” Hermione asked him, swinging her legs, the backs of her ankles meeting the lower cupboards. 

 

He scoffed. “Why is it that it must be something I did, and not the other way around?” 

 

“Well, I’ve known you for about a month, and I can say that you’re not the easiest person to get along with. I mean..well, that doesn’t matter, but -”

 

She wasn’t at all prepared for Draco to step toward her, much less for him to lean over her, and stare at her, his hands resting against the countertop on either side of her.  Except he wasn’t glaring at her, and he looked as if he was unsure of what he was about to say. Just as she was sure he was going to insult her, he said something completely different. “Were you going to mention your birthday?” 

 

Hermione looked away from him, swallowing;she didn’t want to look back at him. It was too easy to get lost in grey eyes that reminded her of the storm clouds that  frequented England. “I was going to, but I think it’s better left alone. Don’t you?”

 

He heaved a heavy sigh before pushing away from the counter, and from her. Malfoy awkwardly clasped the back of his neck, before raking his fingers through his hair. “Look at me, Granger.” 

 

She did, though her stomach was in knots and the last thing she wanted to do was discuss the time he’d made her cry. Hermione stared at him, watching him as he shifted his weight to the other foot. “What, Malfoy?” 

 

“I owe you an apology. I was wrong,” he spat the word, as if it was all he could do to get it out. “I shouldn’t have treated you that way, especially not on your birthday.” 

 

Her eyes widened. “What?” 

 

“Have you never heard an apology?” He sneered, and she could have sighed. 

 

“There he is,” Hermione mumbled under her breath. 

 

As his kettle whistled, he looked back at her. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? It’s not like I had gotten you anything for your birthday.”

 

“There’s nothing I can think of, it’s fine. Really, I forgive you. You can’t help who you are.” She laughed as he rolled his eyes at her. 

 

“I have an appointment for my next tattoo this weekend. What if I took you to get one? Would that make up for my shitty behavior?” 

 

Hermione hadn’t thought her eyes could grow any wider, but they did. Looking at him, and her eyes roaming over his arms, she couldn’t think of a single reason to pass him up on his offer. Well, no reason beyond the fact that it would have been awkward since this was Malfoy. “Why would you do that?” 

 

To see Malfoy smile was rare, but his lips curved as he blew over the steaming cup of tea. The steam from it rising into the air, he inhaled the smell before setting the cup on the counter. “You told me the day you met me that you liked mine. It’s not hard to guess you’re dying to get a tattoo, and Regulus is the only artist I’d recommend. Plus I’m paying, so what do you have to lose? Perhaps a few hours of your time, but my company isn’t  _ that  _  bad.” 

 

“I wouldn’t know,” she retorted, but Hermione already knew she was going to cave. As silly as it was, like she was barely fifteen, and she had her first crush, she wasn’t going to pass up to chance to get to know Malfoy. Especially if he wasn’t being a prick. “I’d love to, but I don’t know if I would be able to handle it.” 

 

He grinned as if he knew something that she didn’t. “Oh, it doesn’t hurt that badly.” 

 

Why, oh why was she certain that was just something everyone said?

* * *

 

That night after Draco had offered to take her to do something for her birthday slash apology, an incredibly out of character thing for him to do, she’d marked one of the things from her bucket list. There was a stark line through  _ Ride the London Eye _ , and she kept her hand steady as she drew a line through  _ ride a motorcycle _ . It might have been the silliest item on her list, but her mother had assured her that nothing she wanted to do was stupid. 

 

She’d just been prattling off anything she could think of while her mother lay in the hospital bed in their living room. Hermione had come to expect the familiar stinging behind her eyes whenever she thought of her mother, but this time it didn’t come. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it, whether it was a good thing, but the guilt from  _ not  _ crying for Jean Granger was all consuming if she didn’t distract herself. 

 

The smell of Draco’s cologne had rubbed off on her clothes while she’d been wearing his jumper, and the entire memory of him offering to pick her up had surprised her the most. Then with him defending her to Adrian, and the feel of his stomach beneath her fingertips as she held onto him on the back of his motorbike. Clearly he liked to stay in shape, judging from the in home gym in the manor, but feeling his chisled core muscles herself was another thing altogether. 

 

Hermione had called Pansy that night and told her in hushed whispers what she was doing that Saturday at two in the afternoon.

* * *

 

For the rest of the week her days had blurred together, and each of them were close to the same story. First of all, it would have taken more work to avoid Slughorn than to finish out her academic year, so on the second day, she’d politely said hello. She only made a quick escape when he wanted to discuss American politics because he thought they were so interesting. 

 

It wasn’t planned for her to meet him there, but she met Theo in the library every single day. They sat in silence, save for when he would leave for a drink, and food, but he would set something down in front of her. To which she grinned, and said thank you, ripping open whatever he’d brought her as quietly as possible. 

 

Her first essay had gone over well, and when Theo had peeked over the table to see what she was working on, he’d pointed out an embarrassing typo. For the most part she felt like she was fully settled into life both at university, and home. 

 

She met Pansy in the canteen everyday on her breaks, and she had fallen asleep more than once with her head on the table. Most times Ron scared her awake, and she was going to murder him the next time he did it. 

 

By Friday she was impatient to get home, to go to sleep, and then to wake up and go with Malfoy to get a tattoo. And her excitement didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re bouncing in your seat,” Theo told her, setting his pen down, and resting his chin on his fist. His elbow was braced against the table. 

 

Madam Pince had left a half hour ago, stopping by their table to make sure Hermione had the key she’d given her on Wednesday. Something that both Theo, and Malfoy had a laugh over, though not together, because _ of course _ she had a personal key to the library. The lights were dimmed, and she’d long since reached to the middle of the table to turn on the lamp they shared. 

 

Her face flushed, and she stopped bouncing her leg up and down, now noticing what she was doing. “Sorry.” Hermione laughed, flipping her pen between her fingers. “I’m a bit excited for tomorrow is all.” 

 

He paused before asking, “What’s tomorrow?” 

 

She hesitated, but only for a moment, and only because she knew that for whatever reason Theo and Draco were not on speaking terms for the time being. “I’m going to get my first tattoo tomorrow,” Hermione told him, her lips curving up once more. “I have absolutely no idea what to get.” 

 

Theo chuckled under his breath, shutting his text book, and leaning back in his chair while balancing it on the back two legs. “Well, if you’re like Draco, you won’t care. I think he’s just addicted to the feeling of getting new ink.” 

 

She paused, and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s the only reasons. He definitely planned out those sleeves.” 

 

“What makes you say that?” His arm was slung over the back of his chair, and he grabbed his water bottle from the table. Theo chugged the last of it before throwing it into the trash can behind her. 

 

“I mean - fuck, you actually made it - if you’ve ever really looked at them, you would notice that they all weave together. Surely he couldn’t have just gotten random things tattooed onto him, and hoped for the best is what I’m saying.” 

 

He nodded. “Ah, his sleeves, yeah. But those are only a year old. It was a cover up job. When he turned eighteen, he got all of these awful fucking tattoos. You should ask him about it; he hates when it’s brought up.” 

 

Hermione giggled. “I could ask Regulus tomorrow.” 

 

Theo’s eyes widened. “Malfoy got you an appointment?”

 

Slowly nodding, Hermione told him “He said he was going this weekend anyway, and he offered to take me as an apology for being a prick on my birthday. I wasn’t upset with him anymore, but he insisted. Is Regulus hard to get an appointment with?” 

 

He whistled, nodding. “Oh, yeah. As far as I knew he was booked until June of next year. Speaking of which, Malfoy’s next appointment with him was around New Years. He must have paid Reg extra to get the two of you in early.” 

 

A pretty thought, but she was skeptical. Hermione shrugged. “I doubt that, but the problem remains. How do I decide what to get? I’ve never given it any thought, and I don’t want to be that person who walks in and says ‘Hi, I’d like a permanent mark on my body, but I don’t know what I want. Please help?’” 

 

Theo snorted. “Regulus is great at helping you make decisions, but what do you like? Some people get quotes, some people get tributes to their loved ones -”

 

“Not that one,” she objected immediately, shaking her head. 

 

“Symbols from their favorite movies, or books,” 

 

Hermione leaned forward with a grin. “You might have helped. I’m sure there are several tattoos I could ask him about for my favorite movie series.” Theo motioned for her to go on, and she bit her lip. “Lord of the Rings.” 

 

He waved her off. “Never seen it, but we can look up ideas on the inter-” 

 

Hermione cut him off with a shriek. Losing his balance and tumbling to the floor, her laughter echoed throughout the library. “What do you mean you’ve never seen Lord of the Rings? We can’t be friends anymore!” 

 

Sprawled in the floor, Theo stared up at her, and lifted his hand to his heart. “That hurts, Granger.” 

 

“You’re going to watch them.” 

 

“With you.” 

 

“If that’s what it bloody takes!” 

 

He burst into loud laughter that Draco definitely heard from the lobby since his mother sent him to fetch her for dinner.

* * *

 

It was Hermione that bounded into his bedroom at one o'clock, nudging him awake. “Wake up, Malfoy,” she murmured, glancing to the glass of water on the nightstand, and she considered dousing him. 

 

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled, rolling onto his side. 

 

She sighed, snatching the glass, ripping the covers back, and dumped it right over his head. “Before you yell at me, you told me to wake you up at one!” Hermione stumbled backward, nearly tripping over one of his Doc Martens, only to be caught. 

 

The water she’d splashed over him hadn’t only gotten in his hair. The droplets slid down his bare chest, and when he caught her - he’d shot out of bed too fast for her to even see -, he’d tugged her right against him, pressing her flush into the curve of him. And he was definitely laughing because the tops of her cheeks were as red as her nail polish, but like hell she was going to be embarrassed in front of him. 

 

Pressing her palms against his chest, Hermione pushed him off of her. “Thanks, I have to change my shirt now.” 

 

Malfoy stretched his arms over his head, glaring at her. “Oh, yes,” he scoffed. “I should have just let you fall on your arse.” 

 

“It’s not like it would have hurt that much, Malfoy,” she said, straightening her shirt. “It’s only carpet.” 

 

He smirked. “Well, you’d need all the help you can get considering you don’t have much padding to break your fall.” 

 

She blinked. “Did you just insult me by saying I don’t have an ass?” Hermione looked over in the mirror - sure she felt a bit vain, but still - before turning back to him as he was mid sentence of another insult. “Aren’t you supposed to me nice to me today?” 

 

He fell silent, and then - “I’m not apologizing to you again, but your arse is...” 

 

She punched him in the stomach, and it was only a tap really, but he caught her wrist. Hermione looked up at him warily, and then back to her wrist. “Don’t talk about my arse,” she said finally. 

 

Running his thumb along the inside of her wrist, he dropped her hand. “I was only going to say that it looks better in those joggers you wear, but -”  _ smack!  _ “Granger, stop hitting me!” He growled, and there was a red mark on his abdomen. “You fucking idiot.” Draco smirked as  she shook her hand, glaring at him. 

 

“Don’t talk about my arse whether it’s good, or bad,” she repeated. 

 

“Go change, and then meet me downstairs,” he muttered, shoving her out of his room, and letting the door slam with a loud thud behind her. 

 

It took her no time at all to rush into her room, grabbing the first t-shirt she saw. Hermione threw her soaked one into the hamper behind her bedroom door, grabbed her purse, and hurried down the stairs. Lucius and Narcissa were out again, having brunch with Pansy’s mother while Lucius was home. There was little doubt how the Malfoy matriarch would react when she saw that Hermione now had a tattoo as well, but that sounded like a problem for future her. 

 

Draco walked down the stairs lazily, clad in a pair of jeans, and a jumper that really shouldn’t look  _ that _ good draped over anyone’s shoulders. Hermione sipped her coffee from her travel mug, a pretty teal one she’d found in the campus shop, and she followed Draco out to the garage. Sliding into the passenger seat, she set her purse in the floorboard, and sent a reply to Pansy, telling her they were off; her best friend was probably laughing a bit. 

 

Draco turned up the music, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he was driving, weaving in and out of traffic. The area of the shop was clearly new, probably built within the last five years, and they must have passed two boutiques, and a cafe as he found parking. And then he asked the question she’d been dreading. “Do you know what you want to get?” 

 

“I know I’d like something from Lord of the Rings, but that’s all. Theo told me that Regulus would be helpful with helping me decide.” 

 

Malfoy nodded, not commenting on Theo at all, and pulled his keys from the ignition. “I’m sure he can think of something.” 

 

Hermione slid out of the car, putting the strap of her purse over her shoulder, following him across the street, and into the shop. It was clear that Draco was known here by all of the staff, and especially the brunette at the front desk. Standing with her arms crossed, she tried to hold in her childish gag as the woman flirted with Malfoy. 

 

_ Of course. _

 

“You must be Hermione, right?” A hand settled gently on her shoulder, but it didn’t matter. 

 

She shrieked, jumping in place, and she could feel her face heating up as everyone in the tattoo parlor laughed - with any luck they weren’t laughing at her. “Yes,” she muttered, crossing her right arm across her torso, and clutching her left. 

 

“She scares easy, Reg,” Malfoy said, not unkindly, and there was a smirk firmly planted on his face. 

 

“Nice to meet you.” She cleared her throat, smiling at the man. 

 

He might have been an inch shorter than Malfoy, but he had black hair that was slightly unkempt, and dark eyes. But fuck if he didn’t grin at her, still chuckling about how he’d scared her. His arms were heavily tattooed, a large black wolf on his upper arm howling at the moon where his shoulder was. The moon was just barely peeking out from under the sleeve of his black shirt, but in the front where the top two buttons were undone, she could see ink covering his tan skin. Absently, she wondered who he let work on him, or if he was able to twist his hand in a way to tattoo himself?

 

Regulus slung on arm around her shoulder, guiding her to a large room. “Hop in the chair, kid. Do you know what you want?” 

 

She felt like a child shaking her head, but she explained the exact same thing she’d just told Malfoy. “A friend of mine told me that you might be able to help me. We narrowed it down to something that I do like, which is a quote, but I don’t want  _ just _ a quote.” There was silence, except for Draco muffling his chuckle into his hand. “Not that there’s anything wrong with quotes.” 

 

The man sitting in the stool beside her laughed, reaching for a sketchbook on the table near her. “No worries, we have all afternoon for you to decide. You’re the one that has to live with it for the rest of your life. What’s this quote?” 

 

Hermione cleared her throat, fidgeting in her seat as her eyes landed on the tattoo gun, and she was terrified this was going to hurt. “Not all those who wander are lost.” 

 

Draco’s lips curved into a smirk, a small thing that did not go unnoticed by her. She thought he might have mumbled that she was a bit of a nerd, but over the sound of a tattoo gun in the next room over whirring to life, she wasn’t so sure. 

 

“Tolkien, huh?” Regulus said, leaning back in his chair as his sketchbook was balanced on his knee. “Yeah, we could work with that. There was one I did for a leg piece once; it was the tree of Gondor, and it looked great.” 

 

She nodded excitedly, leaning over to watch him sketch. “Do you think I could get it on my forearm?” Hermione asked him, placing her palm over her right arm where she would like it. “Say here?” 

 

Regulus reached up to move her hand back some more, farther away from her wrist. “About here?” He asked her then. “Makes it easier to cover later if you have a job that wants them covered. So you won’t have them showing from under your sleeve.” 

 

Immediately, her eyes drifted to Malfoy. 

 

Draco snorted, shaking his head. His foot was propped up against the door, and his arms were folded over his chest. “I work for my father, and suits cover them, thank you.” 

 

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “This would be perfect, but..” She trailed off, and she considered just winging it. Even if it did hurt, she could hold out surely. “Okay, exactly how much is this going to hurt because that looks like a lot of lines that have to be filled in, and -” 

 

“Your pain tolerance is going to be different from anyone else’s,.” Draco told her. “You’ll be fine. When that guy almost broke your nose, you were fine. You whined a bit, but you didn’t cry.” 

 

Her nose wrinkled. “If this is comparable to nearly having my nose broken, I’m having second thoughts.” 

 

Regulus set the book in her lap in the middle of her sentence. “What do you think of that?” He tapped his pen against the side of the parlor chair, watching her eyes shoot up, and her smile widen. “That work?” 

 

“It’s perfect.” Hermione beamed. Leaning back in the chair, she watched Regulus leave the room, and Malfoy settled into the seat on her left. “Malfoy?” 

 

“What?” 

 

Hermione looked at him, drawing her bottom lip in between her teeth. “If I cry will you judge me?”

 

He chuckled under his breath. “Not outloud.” 

 

Her laugh bubbled up, and that’s what Regulus came back to - both of them laughing a little too loudly. “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

 

The sound of that tattoo gun was soothing in a weird sort of way, a white noise that distracted her from the first time the needle touched her skin. And she’d told both men that this was far easier than she thought it would be - to which Malfoy smothered a laugh. And then it was later that she realized why he’d laughed. 

 

Over the sound of the gun, Hermione said, “I like your tattoo there.” She pointed at the detailed wolf with her other hand. “It’s amazing.” 

 

Regulus smiled to himself. “Thank you. It’s for my older brother, Sirius. He was killed a few years ago.” When her face fell, he reassured her. “It’s alright. He had a tattoo just like it, same placement, but it was a bit rougher.” 

 

“Did you do it for him?” She asked quietly. 

 

“I did; it was one of my firsts. It seemed like the right thing to do to have it myself.” 

 

Falling back into silence, Hermione watched Regulus. Most of it was easy, until Regulus was doing the final bits of touching up her tattoo, and going around one last time. The tree hadn’t hurt as much as the words that he was now almost done with. But almost wasn’t close enough, and hot tears burned her eyes as they watered.  “Holy fuck, that fucking hurts,” Hermione hissed between her teeth. “You told me it wouldn’t hurt; Malfoy, this is way worse than being punched in the face.” 

 

He laughed loudly, grabbing her phone from the table as it starting ringing. “It’s Pansy. She’s video calling you.” 

 

“So answer!” she muttered, looking sheepishly at Regulus who had not laughed at her a single time. 

 

As the picture of Pansy came into focus, Hermione could hear the background of the Leaky, and Harry asking how her appointment was going. “Draco, show me Hermione,” Pansy told him, and he tilted toward her. 

 

It was the exact moment that Hermione grabbed Draco’s hand. “Granger, what are you doing?” 

 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” 

 

“It looks like you’re holding my hand, but I’m not sure why,” he muttered, but he didn’t yank his hand away. In fact he let her squeeze it until she couldn’t grip it any harder. “For fucks sake, that hurts.” 

 

“How do you think I feel?” she bit out. 

 

“You know, you guys look pretty busy. I’ll just let you go. Bye, Hermione!” Pansy called, and there was a goodbye from Harry before the call disconnected. 

 

As Regulus finally finished filling in the last of the letters -the  _ t - _ she let go of Draco’s hand. Hermione lifted her arm up to see it before Regulus wrapped it. “What do you think?” 

 

“I really love it.” Hermione stuck her arm out for him to wrap the tattoo. “My arm feels dead, but at least it isn’t sore.” 

 

Regulus said, “It will be later. Wash it several times a day with antibacterial soap. And put lotion on it throughout the day. And when it peels, don’t itch it. If you have any questions, feel free to call me anytime, but I’m sure Draco will have all the answers.” 

 

When she looked at him, he was rubbing his hand with a scowl. He nodded. “I have the lotion you need at home. I’ll give it to you when we’re back.” He helped her up out of the chair, and she followed both him and Regulus to the front desk once more. 

 

Hermione stood there quietly as she watched Draco pay, and told Regulus he’d see him the next time. 

 

“Oh, you forgot your receipt!” the receptionist called. 

 

Without thinking, Hermione just turned on her heel, and grabbed it. Ignoring the surly look on the girl’s face, Hermione walked close to Draco as they crossed the street to his car. The sun was setting, and it looked as if it were going to rain again. “Thank you,” she said when the ignition turned over, and he just looked over at her. “I mean it, Draco. This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

 

He frowned. “That’s a terrible shame, but you’re welcome.” 

 

It was as he settled his arm over the back of her seat as he backed into the busy street, that Hermione realized two things. 

 

For one, the overly flirtatious receptionist has scribbled her cellphone number on the back of the receipt. Hermione insisted to herself that it didn’t mean anything as she stuffed it into her purse, never to be seen by Malfoy. 

 

For two, she remembered that he’d told her he had a tattoo appointment as well, but Theo had told her he didn’t have one until after the new year. Yet she realized that he hadn’t gotten one at all; he’d just sat through hers. 

 

What she really should have noticed was his smirk when she pulled out her list, and drew a solid black line through  _ get a tattoo. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently with each chapter I write, they get longer. Lol. This one was right at 8,000 words before I added this note. I hope it was well worth the longish wait! I'm really busy at work, so I know it's taken longer than the normal time. I'm excited to see what you all think, and as more chapters come I'm excited to see theories of what you think will happen.
> 
> See you soon for Omega, and the next chapter of Wanderlust! - Mrs. Ren.


	8. Bucket List # 13 - Aesthetic or Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my hiatus ends today. This chapter was really hard to write, because it’s shaping the plot, and apparently it’s hard to write plot for me. A year ago today, I started writing again, so I guess it makes sense to come back to it today. I struggled with a lot of self doubt, but it’s okay. I have a story tell. Wanderlust is now completely outlined, and I know how it ends.
> 
>  
> 
> I’m eager to see reactions, and I promise for more dramione interactions, and building drama in the next chapter.

 

 

Hermione liked the air of Flourish and Blotts, or maybe it was the laughter that drew her in. There was hardly a moment where Luna wasn’t telling a joke, some that she was sure she’d never understand the punch line to, but regardless there was an airy laughter almost always floating through the book shop. 

 

Hermione sat at a table near the windows, raindrops splattering against the glass. She’d never seen so many storms back to back in her life, and she’d learned the hard way to always carry a jacket in her backpack. There was a book opened on the table in front of her, a novel she’d plucked from the shelf. Her plastic travel mug - another one she’d bought from the the campus shop - was warm beneath her fingers. 

 

The mug was glossy black with a drawing of a witch’s hat. Underneath the cute drawing, there was wispy calligraphy that read  _ Witch’s Brew. _ She’d nabbed it before they could sell out, even though Harry was beside her with Pansy, telling her that Halloween would be over before she knew it, and she wouldn’t use it again. Clearly he didn’t know her well yet. 

 

Pansy was somewhere in the shop, off trying to find another novel for her mother. 

 

“How’s the book?” Neville called from the counter, twirling a pen in between his fingers. “Hannah hated it.” 

 

She nodded, shutting the book. “I think Hannah was right. I can’t get into it at all. I’m not sure if I’m meant to be rooting for the nice guy, or the asshole, and I don’t like surprises.” 

 

He snorted. “Isn’t that the point of a love triangle?” Neville asked, pulling a stool around so she could sit across from him at the counter. “Hannah has always said she hates love triangles.” 

 

Jumping in place when a clap of thunder rang out, Hermione steadied herself before climbing onto the seat. “Maybe so, but I don’t think that was a love triangle.” Hermione fidgeted, organizing the counter so everything was in order. “More like a love...rhombus?” 

 

Neville choked on his water, and it came out of his nose. “A rhombus? Care to explain?” 

 

Yanking several tissues from the box near them, Hermione wiped up the mess while her lips curved into a grin. “Not really.I would have continued with my course work, but it's so hard to work with..." She trailed off, looking to the back of the shop. "Pansy is rather loud isn't she?" She laughed. 

 

Neville nodded. "She's always been like that, though. Her mother asks for the most dreadful books if you ask me, and poor Parkinson has to come here when we're slow so no one sees her with trashy romance novels." 

 

Hermione giggled. "Ah, yes. The erotica her mother is so fond of. Do you think her husband knows the extent of it? Merely wondering since it's utter rubbish, and I only read one!" 

 

Neville's cheeks grew red at the memory of her reading Skeeter's excerpt aloud. "Right, the orgasm torture thing." He muttered under his breath. "That was...ridiculous." 

 

Hermione snorted. "Well, if you ask me, she must be living vicariously, but having met Mrs. Parkinson, I don't think I want to associate that sort of thing with her." 

 

His laughter echoed throughout the shop, the false crystals on the lamp at the counter shaking with the force of it. "How are your classes? I hope you're finding them to be enjoyable." 

 

She rolled her eyes, though she didn't particularly mean to. "They're great. If Professor Slughorn spent more time teaching than talking about Slug Club, it would be even better, but I suppose we can't have everything." 

 

"God forbid he teach," Neville whispered when an older woman glared at him from behind one of the shelves. "Has he invited you to Slug Club yet?" 

 

She nodded her head. "Only a handful of times already, of course. He's so interested in talking about America, and I would be happy to discuss anything he liked, but he's just -- he's a bit irritating, if I'm honest. That's so mean, but-"    
  
He waved off her worries. "Believe me, Granger, I understand. Hannah hates Slug Club, but her mother went in university, as did her father, and they're fanatical about it."    
  
"Really? Do they say if the annual Christmas party is worth it?" Hermione leaned forward, propping her chin up on her knuckles. The shop was immersed in a soft light, one that made the stone in her mother's ring flicker, and sparkle.    
  


He nodded. "Her mum is always on about how it's important to have connections, and it never hurts to start early. Do you think you'll go? Malfoy will be there as well, so at the very least you’ll know someone there."    
  
She thought of his usually sour expression, and how he didn't always like to spend much time around her but...he proved that he could be fun. The itching sensation on top of her forearm proved that much. Hermione bent down in the stool to grab the lotion from the side pocket of her backpack.    
  
"I'm not sure. I suppose it depends if the Prime Minister will really be there." She sounded excited just thinking about how thrilling that would be. "Can you imagine? The Prime Minister of all people!" she gushed, flipping the cap of the lotion open, squeezing a dollop of it onto her finger, and spreading it in a thin layer of her skin.    
  
"That looks like it hurts." Neville nodded to her arm, wincing at the old woman stormed out of the shop, muttering about how she'd have to go to a more reputable bookshop for the cookbook she wanted.    
  
Hermione commented under her breath that she'd been looking in the section for young adults, and it was really no wonder that she hadn't found what she wanted.    
  
She shrugged, laying the tube on the counter. "It's irritated." Hermione surmised, laying her arm with her forearm facing the ceiling. "Sometimes it hurts a bit, but not anymore. Theo smacked it on accident earlier this week in the library."    
  
Pansy's voice carried throughout the shop as she hurried towards the front again. "She could use the internet, you know?" she said loudly to Luna, who trailed behind her. "There's no need to send her daughter to pick this up."    
  
She waved it in Hermione's face, showing her the glossy cover of a woman's legs, parted by a spreader bar, and Hermione could only look away.

 

"Would you stop waving that around?" She snapped, rolling her eyes, and grabbing the bag herself to shove the trashy book inside. "Aren't we supposed to be at the Leaky already?"    
  
Pansy nodded, pointing back to Luna. "Yeah, but Luna is going to come. She was getting off from her shift anyway, so might as well. It won't kill Ginny to wait for a minute. I'm sure she's on the phone with her bloke right now."    
  
Hermione smiled, thinking of the way Ginny had been glued to her phone all day, all week really. "We should be meeting him soon, right?"    
  
Pansy threw her hands up. "Not sure. She's keeping everything hush hush. Probably because Malfoy is a total prick."    
  
"But they're not dating. They never were." Hermione argued, not understanding.   
  
"Right, well, yeah, but they're fucking best friends." She hissed as she dug around in her purse for her keys. "And Draco loves scaring off her boyfriends because he doesn't think they're good enough."    
  
Hermione frowned. It didn't really sound like him at all to be honest, but she supposed she didn't really know him at all. "Do you think he'd do that?"    
  
She nodded, her hair falling into her face while she grumbled that it was too short to tie up, and she was already sick of her bob. Nevermind how cute she said it was that morning, and how it was so quick to blow dry when she woke up with twenty minutes to get her arse to the university. "Why do you think she's keeping his name a secret?"    
  
"His name is Blaise," Hermione deadpanned. "Zabini, or something like that. Don't look at me like that. She doesn't hide her phone very well. If she didn't want anyone to know, she shouldn't leave her notifications unlocked.”

 

"Maybe don’t let that slip to your housemate, yeah?" Pansy suggested. "Bye, Neville! See you next week for my mum's next fix!" she sang, yanking the front door open.    
  
The man behind the counter groaned. "Please don't involve me next time. I have no desire to hunt down every BDSM book by Skeeter ever again. Bye!"    
  
England was perpetually rainy, and she adored it. From splashing through puddles - perhaps she was a bit of a child, but it was impossible to care - to the chilliness that enveloped her, causing her to hug her jacket that much closer, she loved every bit of it.    
  
Rain at home was...well, it was hot. It was humid, and it made her hair frizzy, and it was just awful. Hermione tugged her hood over her head as they rushed to the car. Well, Hermione hurried at least. Luna was happy to spin in the rain, reaching out with her palms opened to catch the raindrops. Even the loud crack of thunder overhead wasn’t enough to jar the young woman. 

 

Her hair was drenched, but it looked picture worthy as tendrils clung to her face. “You should dance with me!” Luna called out, and Hermione could only shake her head with a smile curving her lips as she tossed her backpack into Pansy’s floorboard. 

 

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm, Luna, and -” Hermione shrieked when Luna grabbed her by the hand, lacing her fingers through the gaps of hers, and tugged her back onto the sidewalk. “Fine.” She conceded, letting Luna spin her around as heavy rain poured down. 

* * *

 

Ginny had saved a table for them close to the back corner, against the window that showcased the busy street outside. Sliding into the seat across from her, she muttered under her breath when Pansy slid into the booth too quickly, causing her head to knock against the glass. 

 

Luna sat beside Ginny, plucking the dessert menu from between the salt and pepper shakers. “This is new.” She hummed, flipping it over. 

 

She was certain she wasn’t the only one to notice it, but she was the first to bring it up. “Ginny?” Hermione asked hesitantly. “Are you alright?” 

 

Ginny’s shoulders slumped as she fidgeted with the styrofoam cup in front of her. The black, plastic lid laid face up on the table, and her name had been misspelled on the side of the cup. “It’s nothing,” she muttered under her breath, taking a drink before her features contorted into anger. “For the love of - Angelina fucked up my order.” 

 

Hermione and Pansy shared a quick look that went unnoticed by the other side of the table. “What’s wrong?” Pansy asked. “Don’t tell me it’s nothing. It’s clearly not.” 

 

Ginny huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s nothing, really, but there’s this guy that was just giving me the creeps before you got here. He’s sitting over there in the corner.” She nodded her head toward the front door, and as Hermione craned her head back to see, she froze. 

 

Antonin sat beside the coat rack, a puddle forming beside his left foot as he leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. She recognized the two men he was with from the night at the Shrieking Shack, and her mouth went dry. “The one that’s leaned back, right?” Hermione asked quietly, unable to tear her eyes away, but she hoped he wouldn’t look up. 

 

Although he must have seen her come in. Pansy had parked right in front of the window he sat at. 

 

“Yeah, that’s him. I bumped into him on the way to the loo,” Ginny replied, picking up her cup again. “I don’t know how she messed up my order so badly, but - what the hell are you doing?” she said loudly as Hermione knocked the cup from her hand. “Jesus, Hermione, it’s everywhere now.” True enough, the brown, soon to be sticky substance was all over the window, the table, and it dripped off the edges of the table. 

 

She glanced across the room, but Antonin hadn’t moved. “That’s the guy who spiked my drink,” Hermione explained in hushed tones. “I panicked when you said it was wrong; I assumed he’d done something.” 

 

Ginny eyes widened. “That’s fair, but you’re sure that’s him?” 

 

Hermione nodded quickly. “I can’t forget.” 

 

Luna slid the menu back into place. “Shall we leave then?” she asked them, gathering her bag, and sliding the strap over her shoulder. “Hermione is a bit of a hothead, and so is Ginny.” 

 

Pansy laughed, nodding her head, and standing to her feet. “I didn’t want coffee anyway. Let’s go drop off my mum’s books, and we’ll think of something to do. Harry, Theo, and Draco are already at Malfoy Manor. We can meet up with them.” 

* * *

 

When they got to the manor, it was silent. Lucius’ car was gone, and there was no sign of Narcissa. At four o’clock in the afternoon, she was usually in the sitting room, flicking through station after station of home remodeling while she sipped a glass of wine. It was one of the small things that made her laugh, hearing Narcissa Malfoy harp on and on about how ‘you can’t just knock out a wall, you scathing idiot!’. 

 

And there was the fact that they couldn’t find the others either. Draco wasn’t in his room - Hermione had checked. Yet their cars were in the drive. Hermione was content to not look for them at all, choosing to climb the stairs, and peel her soaked clothes off of her body in the upstairs bathroom they shared. At least the puddles of water could be dried easily there. She didn’t like the idea of trekking it through her bedroom, and all over the carpet. 

 

The manor was so large that they could be anywhere, but Hermione was sure they were likely outside. 

 

She pulled her shirt over her head, throwing it into the basket that she would take down later. Shimmying out of her jeans, Hermione leaned against the counter as she hobbled on one foot. Goosebumps raised on her arms at the draft that went through the room. 

 

“I’ll get a cold from dancing in the rain,” she mumbled to herself. Knowing Luna, even as little as she did so far, she was sure the girl was dancing outside again when she heard giggling. 

 

Hermione wrung her hair out with a towel before tying it up in a bun on top of her head. It looked like shit, she realized, but all she was going to do was go downstairs. Like she cared if it looked like she’d just rolled out of bed. She unclasped her bra, shivering as she reached for the blue one that was laying in the sink basin. 

 

And then the door swung open. “Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry!” Theo yelled, but he hadn’t quite stopped staring at her. 

 

“Theo!” she yelled, covering her chest the best she could with one arm. “Could you please just use another bathroom?” Hermione asked, so clearly exasperated as he didn’t seem to hear a word she’d said. “Out!” Hermione snapped, pressing her palm against his chest, and shoving him into the corridor. 

 

“What’s going on?” It was Malfoy’s voice; as if she wasn’t already mortified enough. “Granger?” 

 

“Nothing,” she squeaked. Hermione stuck her head out of the door frame, and his gaze dropped to her bare shoulders. “Just that this bathroom is occupied. Surely there’s another for Theo to use?” 

 

If she expected a smirk, or a chuckle at her awful luck, it wasn’t what she got. “You’re naked, aren’t you?” he deadpanned, gripping Theo by the shoulder. “Come on, mate. So stunned you can’t stop looking?” Draco grumbled, thumping him on the back of the head. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

 

Hermione slammed the door shut, and twisted the lock into place like she should have from the beginning. 

 

After several deep breaths, and reassuring her that more awkward things had happened in her life, she dressed herself quickly. Not wanting to lock herself away, Hermione pulled on a loose pair of joggers, and a jumper. The first thing she’d grabbed was the dark green jumper that belonged to Malfoy - which she still hadn’t returned - but she gave a shrug and pulled it over her head. 

 

Everyone was sitting on the wrap around porch. Pansy was cuddled against Harry, whose arm was wrapped around his girlfriend while he whispered in her ear. Draco sat on the railing, balancing precariously, and rested his back against the supporting beam. 

 

Taking one look at her friend entwined with her boyfriend, Hermione sat on the steps beside Ginny. “Boyfriend?” she asked, nodding her head toward the girl’s phone. 

 

A grin split across her face. “Yeah, he asked me to meet him for dinner tonight,” Ginny told her. “We haven’t exchanged addresses yet. There’s just so many creeps out there, you know?” 

 

Hermione nodded, crossing her legs. “Definitely. Like the guy from the coffee shop today? If I never see him again, it will be too soon,” she murmured, purposely low so it wouldn’t draw Draco’s attention. 

 

Unfortunately, Ginny’s eyes lit up, and Hermione knew what was coming. “Draco,” she called out, leaning backward. “Remember the guy that drugged Hermione at the Shrieking Shack?” 

 

Hermione cringed, the memory making a ball of lead form in her stomach. Until she glanced up. He was staring at her, practically ignoring Ginny, and his eyes were so dark that Hermione couldn’t place her finger on the emotions that were going through them. “Yes.” He swallowed. “I remember him.” 

 

“He was at the Leaky today,” Ginny told him, conveniently leaving out the part of how he’d bothered her as well. 

 

But Hermione told him, ignoring the semi glare that was shot her way. “We left though,” Hermione finished weakly. “I think he made us both uncomfortable.” 

 

Ginny snorted. “He  _ was _ a creep, but Luna was worried Hermione would go full Granger Danger again.” 

 

His voice was soft, but it jarred something in her. There was just something so dark about it, more of a warning than anything else. “Let’s be glad you walked away then,” Malfoy said without tearing his eyes away from her. 

 

“I can defend myself - when I’m not drugged, but I digress,” Hermione defended, arching an eyebrow. “It doesn’t take much to break someone’s nose. Defending yourself doesn't have to involve dragging someone down a bar, Malfoy.” 

 

His lips curved into a lazy smirk as he let one leg dangle from the railing while bringing his knee up. “Does it not? I’ve never considered it.” At the roll of her eyes, he continued, “And Granger, I don’t think you know how to punch someone, much less break their nose without hurting yourself.”

 

“What?” Hermione scowled. “Like it’s hard?” She climbed to her feet. “Why don’t you show me then? If you’re so sure I don’t know how to throw a punch.” 

 

He chuckled, swinging his long legs over the bannister. “I just don’t think it’d be very effective.” 

 

She blinked, realizing everyone was staring at her - including Theo, who had just walked out the door. “I’ll take that bet,” Hermione said in a flat voice. “Are you ready?” 

 

“Sure.” He laughed again, and it wasn’t her fault that he blinked. 

 

Hermione punched him right then, throwing her weight into it. Though she wasn’t sure she needed to do that, but nevertheless, there was a very satisfying crunch, and a collective gasp from behind her. Stepping away from him as he cupped his nose, which was already dripping blood on to the white porch. 

 

_ Oh, Narcissa was going to boil her alive.  _

 

“What the fuck was that?” He hissed, his eyes wide in shock, but she couldn’t find the anger she’d expected there. 

 

She smiled, shaking her hand. “You were half right. I did hurt myself a bit. Your nose is ridiculously pointy.” 

 

“You punched me.” A nod. “You probably broke my nose.” 

 

“You lost the bet,” she remarked, leaning back on her heels with a smile that made her look like the cat that got the cream. “We never said what I would get if I won.” 

 

He spluttered, looking at her still in shock. “You never even made me realize what the bet meant. Out of my way. I need to look at this.” 

 

As the door swung shut, there was a whisper, a faint sound from Harry, “Granger Danger.” 

 

And she burst into giggles. 

* * *

 

In her bedroom that night, Luna had taken a comfortable spot in the floor, laying with her legs propped up against the wall. Her hair was fanned out below her, still drying from the torrential storm that was sweeping through the city. “We should do something this weekend, just us girls,” she said, thumbing through a magazine of home remodeling Narcissa had left downstairs. 

 

Ginny nodded from her spot in the window sill. She’d stolen two pillows from the guest room down the hall, propping them up against the trim, and leaned back. Her wet clothes were discarded in the corner, and she wore a pair of Hermione’s shorts, and a top that was too right around her shoulders. “I agree. Any ideas?” Rolling her shoulders, she winced at the tearing sound. “Hermione -”

 

“It’s fine, Ginny. Just tear it; I don’t wear it much anyway.” Hermione laughed. “Well -” she drummed her fingers against her chin “- I have an idea, but I think it would be self centered for me to suggest it.” Hermione stretched for the copy of Jane Eyre on the nightstand, flipping the battered copy open to the back cover and she pulled the list from it. “I have a bucket list. There are some things that I think could be fun for everyone, but -” 

 

Pansy jumped forward, snatching the list from her hand. Sitting up and tucking her legs beneath her, she read over the bullet points, a smile threatening to overtake her features if she lingered on one too long. “You made this before you came here? Oh, Hermione, you should have told us sooner.”

 

She flushed. “It’s not just that. My mother made it with me; she wrote it actually, and that one about Abbey Road was something she always wanted to do - she just knew she wouldn’t get the chance.” 

 

The room fell silent for a moment, a poignant silence as the topic of her dead mother rose again. 

 

“This one,” Pansy said loudly then, shoving her finger to the line of scrawl, and showing it to Hermione. “I think I say for us all that we would love to do this with you. Road trip?” she asked the girls. 

 

Hermione tugged the sleeves of her jogger over her hands so they might not see that she was shaking. 

 

“Of course.” Ginny grinned. “Where are we going?” 

 

“No destination in mind,” said Hermione. “I just want to  _ go. _ ” 

 

Both Ginny and Luna said they could go with that, and they could make a weekend trip out of it, rather than just a day. Why have a few hours when you could have seventy two? 

 

“Alright then.” Pansy slipped the list back into the back of the book, sitting at the edge of the bed, crossing her ankles. “It’s really the best time to go. October is nearly over, Halloween is in a couple of days. I’ll pay for gas, and we’ll take my car. It’s the biggest. Ginny, can you be in charge of snacks? I’d rather not stop every hour because your bottomless stomach is hungry again.” 

 

Ginny snorted. “If I was the sensitive type, I’d be offended.” 

 

“Yes, but you’re not. Luna, you should make playlists for the trip. The radio has so many commercials, and advertisements. It would ruin the mood.” 

 

It was Hermione who laughed. “It’s only maybe thirty seconds of a commercial Pansy. It’s not going to run the entire mood.” 

 

Pansy turned to look very seriously at Hermione, one eyebrow quirked. “Aesthetic, or death, Miss Granger. Luna, would you look through the music Hermione likes as well?” The blonde gave a mock salute, pulling her laptop from her book bag. 

 

“What would you like me to do then?” Hermione asked, crossing her legs on the bed. 

 

Her best friend smirked. “You? I just want you to show up.” 

* * *

 

They left on Friday after Hermione’s last class ended around four in the afternoon. Hurrying up to her room in Malfoy Manor, she scrambled to throw three days worth of clothes into a suitcase. Though Luna had told her to wear something she’d want her picture taken in, so she stepped back into her closet. Too absorbed in wardrobe choices, she didn’t hear the door open, or the first two times Draco called her name. In fact, she didn’t notice until he was right behind her, and she turned into his chest. 

 

“Malfoy? You could have knocked.” Hermione stepped around him, tossing a cashmere jumper into her bag, and a college jumper she’d brought from home, one that was a size too large, and a mens, because it was all they had. “What do you want?” 

 

“Why does it look like your closet vomited?” he asked, taking a seat at the end of her bed, pulling one of her shirts from the suitcase. “Lace?” Draco mused, and she whirled around to see that now he was holding up one of her bras with a stupid smirk on his face. 

 

She huffed, tossing a boot at his head, which missed and nearly shattered her mirror instead. “Malfoy, sometimes a girl just has to buy things to make herself feel pretty even if no one is meant to see it.” 

 

“Matching set?” His voice came again as she rifled through the rack of clothes for her favorite pair of jeans. 

 

“Malfoy, if I turn around and you’re holding my knickers, I’ll snap your neck.” 

 

“You could try.” 

 

“I’ll kick your bike over,” she said instead, and when she turned, her clothes were back in order. “I wouldn’t break your motorcycle.” Hermione laughed, folding the pair of denims in her hands before shoving them into the bag. 

 

He rolled his eyes. “It would help if you folded the rest of your clothes as well. Are you going somewhere?” 

 

She blinked. “Yeah, I thought Ginny would have told you.” 

 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Draco asked her, laying back on the soft mattress. She was long past the point of stuttering each time he did something to remind her of how attractive he was. Case in point, his shirt rode up and exposed the defined V leading into his jeans. 

 

Swallowing, Hermione shrugged. “I suppose because we aren't the best of friends. Most days I’m certain you still want to put me back on a plane to wherever I came from,” she said as she walked into her bathroom. There was a loud clattering of bottles knocking together as she shoved everything into the small toiletry bag. Coming out of the bathroom, she continued, “Ginny has been your close friend for years. I assumed she’d tell you, but I also assumed you wouldn’t care at all.” 

 

He frowned. “Where are you going then?” 

 

“Uh, road trip with Pansy, GInny, and Luna. They’ll be here in a half hour, and Luna just told me to where something I’d like to have my picture taken in, and Pansy is in my other ear whispering ‘aesthetic, or death,’ so my choice are a bit limited right now.” Hermione broke off. “Are you laughing at me?” She muttered, sour. 

 

Draco stood from the bed, making his way over to the closet and he flipped through her clothes. “You make everything so complicated, did you know that?” 

 

She spluttered. “Well, I -” 

 

“You do.” He commented, pulling a sweater that was a few years old from the rack. “Not that I care much for aesthetic as she harps about.” He rolled his eyes. “This isn’t what you should wear,” he told her, snatching the low cut shirt from her bag. “Not that it doesn’t look nice. It does, but it’s not really you, is it?” 

 

Her eyes widened as he tossed it behind her. “I’ve had that for years, it’s too worn out for anything,” 

 

“Granger, trust me. Wear the fucking jumper.” 

 

“What’s your reasoning?” Hermione asked, folding her arms over her chest. “And why are you so interested in my wardrobe choices?” 

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re most comfortable in this,” he told her, tossing it over her duffle bag. “It doesn’t go unnoticed.” 

 

Hermione nodded. “Alright.” 

 

“Plus I know that’s a shirt you borrowed from Pansy, and I know you don’t like showing off your tits.” 

 

Her cheeks grew hot. “And here I was, thinking you could be sweet.” She snorted, moving around him to force the zipper of her bag shut. “Thank you for making sure I realized that wasn’t the case.” 

 

Malfoy smirked, clapping her on the shoulder. “Anytime.” 

 

Of course the heat of his hand didn’t linger. That would be ridiculous.

* * *

 

When Luna said they were going to take pictures, Hermione hadn’t realized how many. It was nearly constant, from in the car, to while they were singing, and anytime they came across something interesting. Pansy stopped the car each time, despite swearing she wouldn't. 

 

When they came to a turn, they would take a turn of picking left or right, and it was a joke made more than once that they would get lost when they went home. Or perhaps they would be dragged into the forest, and murdered, never to be found. It was Luna who brought up werewolves, or maybe it would be a run of the mill serial killer - _ run of the mill? _ Hermione thought silently. 

 

“Left,” Hermione said, leaning her head against the cool glass. Her phone had vibrated three times in the last ten minutes, though she hadn’t had time to check the texts from Theo since Ginny was narrating their trip. 

 

“...and on this side we have a weird looking tree, and that forest must be haunted...” 

 

Giggling, she swiped her thumb across the screen, knowing that it would be at least another three turns before she was obligated to say something. 

 

_ This paper is a shite show. Slughorn didn’t even cover this.  _

 

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed. 

 

_ Malfoy has no idea either.  _

 

_ What sources did you use?  _

 

Hermione glanced up in time to see the lake Ginny was announcing to them all. And just in time to groan as Luna insisted they stop the car for pictures. Taking the spare second she had, Hermione typed quickly. 

 

_ My notes are on my desk beside my copy of Jane Eyre. The door is unlocked. You’re at the Manor?  _

 

“Hermione, hurry up,” Luna urged, wrenching the passenger side door open, and grabbing her by the wrist. Tugging her from the car, she lost her grip on her cell phone, and she left it lying in the floorboard. It had just went off once more, vibrating against the dirty floor mat when Luna shut the door. “Isn’t it pretty?” 

 

The lake was clearer than any she’d ever seen in person. The edge of the water lapped against the embankment gently, and there was a dock that looked like it needed to be redone. 

 

But that didn’t stop Luna and Ginny both from bounding onto it. It creaked as they hurried across, sitting at the edge, and pulling their shoes off. “It’s a bit cold to dip your feet in the water, don’t you think?” Hermione laughed, walking carefully across the old boards, testing each plank before putting her weight on it. 

 

Brushing her long hair over her shoulder, Ginny shrugged. “It’s only a little chilly. A little cold never killed anyone.” 

 

Hermione deadpanned, “Hypothermia,” while ignoring the rolling of Ginny’s eyes. “Alright,” she conceded when Pansy joined them, sliding her boots off and setting them behind her. “Chilly?” she shouted when her toes skimmed the top of the water. “It’s freezing!” 

 

The loud, mildly obnoxious laugh that came from Ginny echoed in the wide open space. “Who were you texting?” she asked pointedly, bumping shoulders with Theo. “Did Malfoy think of an insult he couldn’t wait to use?” 

 

Hermione snorted, covering her mouth with her hands as Ginny’s smile widened. “No, it was Theo. He was asking where my notes were. Did you know that he was going to be at the Manor with Malfoy?” 

 

Ginny shook her head. “No, but Harry was already there, wasn’t he, Pansy?” 

 

“Yes,” she answered, inspecting her chipped nail polish. 

 

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. “Do you know why they’ve been at the other’s throat recently? From when I first met them, I wouldn’t have thought...” At the stern shake of Ginny’s head, she fell silent. “I’d ask Malfoy, but I’m certain he’d lie to me.” 

 

“They had a disagreement,” Ginny told her nonchalantly, completed by a small wave of her hand. “It’s nothing if you ask me. I’m sure they’re getting along perfectly fine.”

* * *

 

They were not getting on perfectly fine, in fact. 

 

“Do you have feelings for her? If you’re aiming to date her, just fucking tell me already so we can get over this girly shit.” Theo bit out, setting his now empty tumbler down on the bar. He motioned to the bartender - a skinny girl who had been eyeing Malfoy all night, pretty boy that he was. 

 

Malfoy shot him an obscene gesture, picking up his own glass. “Hermione Granger is the biggest pain in my arse to ever be a pain in my arse. No, I don’t want to bloody date her,” he said harshly, slamming the glass down, and it slid right over the edge, shattering behind the bar. “Sorry, I’ll pay for it.” He grimaced. 

 

“Then why are you still mad I took her to London?” Theo asked him. “It was her birthday, and unlike you, I had a genuine interest in seeing her happy. You’d have made her cry.” 

 

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “You had a vested interest, Theo, and it was getting into her knickers.” 

 

“Her knickers are the last thing on my mind.” 

 

“Are they?” He arched an eyebrow, scoffing when he didn’t believe it. “I wouldn’t have made her cry. I know full well how to treat a woman, and I apologized to her.” The memory of taking her to Regulus’s tattoo parlor was still fresh in his mind, from her small questions of how much it would hurt to when she gripped his hand so tightly he thought it might break. 

 

His friend turned to face him fully in the barstool. “Right, the tattoo.” 

 

He nodded, which was more of a jerk of his head. “She commented on mine, if you remember. I thought she might like it.” 

 

Theo swallowed, setting his fist on the counter. “I know. She was ecstatic for it, and we’d talked about it. If you’re not going to be upfront about what you want, Draco, I’m not going to back off.” 

 

It was silent between them, but the club raged on around them. The bartender stopped in front of them, bending over the counter, showing off her cleavage to Draco as she did. “What the fuck does that mean, Theo?” He hissed, and the girl backed away. 

 

“I mean that you can’t be mad that I’m just as interested in Hermione as you are if you’re not going to tell me. Draco, I would back off if you just admitted it.” Theo’s eyes hardened. “When have you texted her today, just to ask how she is?” 

 

Malfoy scoffed. “Forgive me, I’m not as sappy as you are. She’s having a girl’s weekend, and at least I didn’t come up with a weak excuse to talk to her, like borrowing her notes.” 

 

A red tinge blossomed on Theo’s cheeks. “So, you have nothing to say?” 

 

“I don’t have a goddamned thing to admit to you,” Draco grumbled. “If you were my best mate, you’d know me well enough without having to ask. Theo, you know me better than anyone else -”

 

“And if you were mine, you wouldn’t make it a competition. Malfoy, you’ve gotten nearly every girl we’ve ever both fancied and -” 

 

Draco smirked. “And you’ve always lost, Theo. What makes you think this time will be any different?” He shoved away from the counter.

 

* * *

 

Two full days of exploring England. The funny thing about it all was that they could have kept driving, and they would end up in another country, and it was mind boggling to her. 

 

After at least a hundred more turns, they had found themselves on an isolated road. The forest hung over either sides, the leaves turning colors as fall had fully set in. It was Luna’s idea, or maybe it was a collective opinion since she’d been dozing off when they woke her, to take photos in the middle of the road. 

 

With the car parked at the side of the road, Hermione watched wide eyed as Luna pulled different things from her bag at the back of the car. “Luna Lovegood, are those smoke bombs?” Hermione laughed, taking the one that was tossed to her. It was a heavy weight in her hands, and teal blue. “Perhaps we should have shirts that say ‘aesthetic, or death’ because this is...” she looked over to Pansy. “A black smoke bomb?” 

 

“How cliche would it be to say black like my soul?” She smirked. “Alright. How are we doing this?” 

 

“Individual pictures first,” Luna said, opening the wrapping of hers - a pastel pink that  _ would  _ look phenomenal with her blonde curls. “And then we can take a group photo using the timer on the camera.” 

 

Hermione had thought they would just use the camera on their phones, but when Ginny produced a professional looking camera from the trunk, she fell silent.

 

While being coached on how to pose had only made her laugh, the photo of herself stepping into a cloud of turquoise smoke had to be one of her favorite photographs ever taken of her. But the group photo, in which she’d jumped on Ginny’s back when she wasnt expecting it, that was her favorite. 

 

In fact, looking at it as they searched for a place to stay for the night, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever smiled this much in her life. 

 

They found a seedy looking hotel around midnight. The bathroom made her think of  _ American Psycho _ , and she politely asked if they could get the fuck out of there, and sleep in Pansy’s SUV. Something that was shot down. 

 

It was how she found herself seated on the bed with the others, giggling while they uncorked two bottles of wine. “Okay, okay, Ginny, tell the story of how you lost your virginity.” Pansy giggled, drinking moscato from her styrofoam cup. Apparently, wine glasses hadn’t been on the list of things to pack. 

 

Ginny groaned, smacking the heel of her palm against her forehead. “Parkinson, no -” she broke off, “- fine, but only because it’s a good laugh. First  of all, it was Draco, and there were no feelings about it. I just wanted to lose it. And well...Pansy, stop sniggering over there!” 

 

“I’m sorry! It’s just the image of Molly, and -” 

 

Hermione grinned, her movements a bit clumsy from the half bottle of wine she’d already drank. “Go on, tell us.” 

 

“It was nothing, just a shag to say I did it.” 

 

Luna shook her head. “She’s lying. Don’t let her downplay it. Draco Malfoy is a  _ very _ generous lover.” 

 

“For fuck’s sake, you gossip worse than my grandmother at the market!” Ginny scowled. “Okay, whatever. It was more than a quick shag, but I’m not here to tell you how it felt. No one was home, but it was just as I was getting to an orgasm, we heard the door slam open. And We both jumped up, barely dressing ourselves mind you, and Draco pulls the condom off his cock, and -” she bit down on her lip as she giggled “- he meant to throw it into the waste bin.” 

 

“But?” Hermione prodded. 

 

“He threw a condom directly into my mum’s face that was full of come.” 

 

Hermione roared with laughter, her eyes watering. “Holy fuck.” She gasped, holding her sides. “I can’t imagine - and I thought  _ mine  _ was embarrassing.” 

 

Ginny laughed. “We don’t talk about it, but she’s definitely still mad about it. It’s only fair to share though, Hermione.” 

 

She sucked in a deep breath. “It’s not quite as bad, no where near really, but I was in my second year of high school. There was a boy two years above me. I thought we were friends, and he usually took me home.” She shrugged. “One thing led to another, which I’m not getting into, but we were in his car. I was in his lap, and the sex was good. I enjoyed it up until I arched my back, fell backwards, and landed against the horn, and my mother rushed outside to see me naked on his dick.” 

 

Ginny shrieked, spilling wine over her chest as she laughed. Pansy laid her head on Hermione’s shoulders. “That’s amazing.” 

 

“It was  _ awful _ ,” Hermione insisted. “Are we out of wine?” 

 

“I saw a store up the road,” Luna said, swinging her legs over the edge. “It’s a short walk. Don’t worry, Hermione, I’ll protect you.” 

 

Hermione snorted. “Let’s go. Gin, you should change your shirt.” 

 

Going to the store in the middle of the night with your closest friends apparently meant jousting in shopping carts. Though Hermione wasn’t sure Pansy could safely navigate anything, she was sprinting across the parking lot with Hermione in the basket while Ginny had Luna in the opposing basket. 

 

At least they’d listened to her suggestion about buying toy, foam swords instead of sticks. 


	9. My Ovaries Just Exploded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Look who didn’t take a month to update after coming off hiatus! Not much to say, but I wanted to point out that I think I found all of the places where I misspelled Victoire’s name as ‘Victorie’. If I didn’t, that’s my fault. CourtingInsanity beta’d this chapter (like every other one, and assured me of the ending this morning.) I’m shooting for updates every one to two weeks since it’s already outlined and I’m anxious to get to the ‘good’ parts. Also we are on chapter nine of a twenty six chapter long fic.

****  
  


_ Chapter Nine: My Ovaries Just Exploded _

* * *

 

“Miss Granger!” Professor Slughorn called, his hand shooting up into the air as if waving maniacally wouldn’t make her run away even faster.

 

Hermione folded her arms across her chest after shouldering her bag as the older man jostled toward her. There was the absent thought that he had arranged a secret santa for the Slug Club party; she’d have to purchase a pair of suspenders for him. Given the way - she grimaced to herself, but the curtain of her hair hid the curve of her mouth - his gut tended to slip out of his shirt because it never stay tucked in. 

 

“Professor Slughorn.” She greeted cheerfully, jumping forward a step when someone’s fingers brushed up against her hip. 

 

Of course her professor missed the glares she was shooting toward Cormac McLaggen. “Miss Granger, I was wondering if you had a moment to spare?” 

 

“Hmm? I’m not in a hurry; I was leaving to visit the library and get a head start on this week’s essay,” she answered, hoping the subtle hardness in her voice would give away how irritating it was to teach herself her own course work. 

 

Her prayers were ignored as he clapped jovially, steering her out of the lecture hall with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Excellent! I just knew you would be the perfect student for this. You see, Madam Pince -” 

 

Her eyes widened as she heard her name being shouted from behind her. Turning quickly, and nearly slipping on the slick, ornate floors - there was a loud  _ pop! _ that came from her ankle. “Oh, I’m sorry, Professor Slughorn,” she muttered as she hit him in the belly with her backpack. 

 

He coughed, clutching his stomach. “What on earth do you have in that bag of yours?” Slughorn asked loudly, and several heads snapped toward them. 

 

“Just the entirety of the Oxford library, Professor,” Malfoy said smoothly, gripping Hermione’s arm at the crook of her elbow. “I apologize, but I have to borrow Granger for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?” 

 

Slughorn frowned, the corners of his lips turning downward in a show of displeasure, but he gave a curt nod. “Of course. You’ll be coming to the party next month, won’t you?” he asked Malfoy, his eyes not flicking between each student. 

 

Malfoy nodded, tugging Hermione backward. “Wouldn’t miss it; my father asked me to pass along his regrets that he won’t be attending as a speaker this year.”

 

“Lucius was -” Hermione started, only to be cut off with a sharp glare from the blond that went unnoticed by Slughorn, followed by Malfoy stepping on her toes. Squeaking, and blinking back tears, Hermione kicked him in the shin. 

 

Over the last month, she had learned that there wasn’t a way for Horace Slughorn to laugh that didn’t cause the echoing sound to bounce against the walls, drifting up to the ceiling, and ultimately drawing the attention of anyone near - or far, if she could be frank. “Ah, the two of you make quite the pair.” 

 

She blinked, looking at Malfoy who appeared to be just as stunned as her. “Excuse me?” Hermione asked her professor, shouldering her backpack and shaking her head. “I think you have the absolute wrong idea, Professor Slughorn.”

 

Yet the elderly man shook his head and clapped Malfoy on the back. “No need to be shy, my dear. I remember what it’s like to be young, and to be in love.” 

 

She spluttered. “Professor, I assure you that -” 

 

He cut her off again, and she was moments from striking him - or strangling him - because several students were now stopped., including the blonde woman Malfoy had avoided on the first day of term...Greengrass? “Oh, the two of you will look darling at the Christmas party. The staff have been placing bets, so if you could make things a bit more official on November twenty eighth -” 

 

“I am  _ not _ dating Malfoy, nor am I interested him in any capacity.” Hermione bit out, gripping Draco’s wrist, and forcefully dragging him away from the crisis that her professor had created. “And I never agreed to come to the Christmas party!” 

 

“She’ll be there,” Draco murmured, a stupid grin on his face as he took in the blush over her face;she could feel the heat sliding down her neck. “If you’ll excuse us -” 

 

“Stop enjoying this!” she snapped, smacking him on the back of the head. “Just because my misery is entertaining doesn’t mean -” 

 

Slughorn was still positively beaming, and he waved goodbye to them, which only Malfoy returned. “Don’t use the broom closet by the west entrance for snogging, or Filch will catch you!” he yelled, and Hermione wished the world would open up and swallow her whole. 

 

Hermione gave up on winning the argument. Clearly her words were falling on deaf ears, and she had the suspicion that even if the old man listened to her, he was going to tell her it was only a matter of time., which she didn’t care to hear. Dragging her infuriating housemate around the corner, she hauled him into the first classroom she saw. 

 

Luckily it was an abandoned room, and dust broke loose from the chalkboard as she pushed him up against it. “Did you really need to indulge his ridiculousness?” she hissed, stepping away from him before she gave into the urge to hit him again, this time in the nose  _ again.  _

 

He smirked, adjusting his sleeves. “Oh, come off it, Granger. Do you really think anyone could believe I’m dating you?” Malfoy murmured, unbuttoning his cuffs, and rolling them up his forearms before sliding his hands into his pockets. 

 

She opened her mouth to reply before falling silent. And then, “Did you just insult me?” 

 

“Did I?” 

 

“I’m going to break your nose for real this time, Malfoy,” she snarled, raking her fingers through her hair. “How is it by the way?” 

 

He shrugged his shoulders before taking two long steps, and he leaned against the old wooden desk in the room. It creaked beneath his weight, and he was careful not to put all of his weight on it. “Sore. Your damn cat woke me up this morning by laying on it.” 

 

She snorted. “Yes, it’s a pity his love is wasted on someone who is a complete jerk, but he adores you,” Hermione told him. “Well, what did you need to see me for?” 

 

“What?” 

 

Rolling her eyes, she set her bag on the desk behind him before deciding it might weight too much. “You needed to see me, remember? It’s why you interrupted Slughorn and I? Not that I’m complaining. There’s no telling what he was about to ask me to do.” 

 

“Oh, that,” he muttered. “I didn’t need to talk to you. I just thought he was the last person you’d want to speak to since you’re always complaining about him.” 

 

“Don’t look at me like that. He’s eccentric, and really, Malfoy, America is the absolute last thing I want to talk about. Or this holiday party that I’ve been invited to. And why does he feel the need to play matchmaker? He’s the most lax educator I’ve ever seen,” she said, exasperated, and waving her hand through the air as if it was going to get her point across. 

 

His laugh was low, and he gripped the edge of the desk, the veins in his arms standing out against his pale skin as he glanced up at her. “I don’t know what it is about you, Granger, but everyone adores you.” 

 

Her voice caught in her throat, and she snapped her mouth shut before she could say anything that would embarrass her. Counting to five so she wouldn’t blurt anything out, an exercise she hadn’t used since she was nine years old, Hermione made sure she was confident she wouldn’t stutter. “I think you’re overestimating that. I’ve irritated plenty of people.” 

 

“Like who?” He arched an eyebrow, tapping his dress shoes against the floor, the sunlight trickling through the window glinting off the polished material. 

 

“The obvious answer is you; you don’t find me charming, or darling - what was it he said?” Hermione nervously laughed when he smirked. “Um, oh right! McLaggen hates me.” 

 

Malfoy snorted, his knee jerking as he laughed. “No, he doesn’t hate you. He wants in your knickers.” 

 

Sliding her hands into her back pockets, she frowned. “How did you know he’s asked me on a date?” 

 

Draco bit his bottom lip before replying. “I didn’t know that part, but he’s a prick, Granger. And he has a particularly nasty habit about being vocal about his intentions.” 

 

Her stomach sank. “I’ll break his nose.” 

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that. I haven’t heard him talk about it since I told him to fuck off.” He said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. “Listen, I don’t enjoy hearing how he planned to take you to dinner -” 

 

“- I would never have said yes!” 

 

“- and then snog you in the car since he still lives with his parents, and he said, and I quote, ‘that bird will be screaming so loud, my mum would call the police.’ Not that you should worry about him bothering you, I don’t think.” Malfoy pushed off from the desk. 

 

“And why is that?” Hermione asked hurriedly before he could duck out of the room. “Because he’s still asked me out on dates nearly every day. In fact he asked me to go see a movie with him just this morning.” 

 

Malfoy turned quicker than she expected, and she was sent tumbling into the blackboard, his palms slamming against the board on either side of her head as he leaned down to be eye level with her. “He did what?” he said quietly; he would have been less intimidating if he had yelled. 

 

Hermione swallowed, her mouth dry. “This morning before the lecture. He was leaning against my desk, so I asked him to move. And then he told me we could trade. He’d give me my seat back if I went to see some horror movie tonight. I told him I wasn’t interested.” 

 

His nostrils flared, and his hands still hadn’t moved. “And did he move?” 

 

She shook her head slowly. “No, not until I shoved him away. Did you say something to him?” 

 

“No, Ginny did. Apparently it didn’t worry him as much as I thought it would. Don’t you need to be at the library?” he murmured, his breath hot as it met her lips.  _ Does he really need to lean so close? It would be so like me to slip, and - _ “Granger?” 

 

“Yes?” 

 

Malfoy laughed, and his chest shook. “Go to the library like you were planning. McLaggen isn’t going to bother you anymore.” 

 

“Do you have a hero complex?” she blurted, grinning when he was taken by surprise. “It’s just that - well, this isn’t the first time you’ve rushed in like a knight in..leather.” Her fumble was probably worth the wide grin that split his features. “I mean, Antonin, which was justified, and then Adrian, who you don’t even know -” 

 

“He was an arsehole,” he defended. “And Dolohov deserved worse than what he got.” 

 

“Plus the whole chasing me down with the mugger -” 

 

“Was I supposed to stand idly by while you nearly got ran over by several cars in quick succession?” he countered. 

 

“Do you cut everyone off mid sentence, or is that just me?” Hermione asked, smirking, and unconsciously leaning in as he riled her up. “Because it feels like the majority of the time we’re just making conversations even longer by -” 

 

“I’m not sure, Granger. Maybe it’s because you’re nearly always wrong. I don’t have a hero complex, and even though you are a clumsy damsel -” 

 

“If you call me a damsel in distress, I swear to God.” She cut in, finally finishing a sentence without being cut off. Her chest was heaving, and he still hadn’t moved, and the back of her black jumper was surely covered in dust. 

 

“Library?” 

 

She blinked. “What?” 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the library?” he asked her under his breath. 

 

Hermione jumped as if she were suddenly realizing how close they had been, and she slipped under his arm. “Right, yeah, I was on my way.” She froze as she felt his hands brushing against her back. “Dust?” 

 

“Yeah, shouldn’t be so noticeable now,” he told her, and just as he was about to open the door, she remembered what she had been trying to ask the entire time. 

 

“Malfoy, what did Ginny say to him?” Hermione called. 

 

He chuckled, opening the door. “She told him in explicit detail how I beat the fuck out of Antonin at the Shrieking Shack,” Malfoy told her. “I thought it scared him, but I’ll make sure he knows you’re not interested.” 

 

“Don’t hit him!” Hermione called over her shoulder, rushing past him as he muttered something about no promises under his breath.

* * *

 

Between Theo arguing with Ron about rugby, and Pansy snapping at her mother over the phone, Hermione didn’t have anyone to talk to as she pushed her salad around in the bowl before her. From what she’d gathered thus far, Weasley had been beat out for a spot on a competitive - she was certain it was just for fun, but they apparently had matches, and he was very touchy about the topic - rugby team. 

 

“What was his name?” Hermione asked, only interested in having some sort of conversation. “This other player that beat -” at the withering look Ron threw her way, she bit her tongue, “- what was his name?” 

 

Theo reached over to snatch a chip from her side of the table. “Viktor Krum,” he told her. “He’s a transfer student as well, but he has family here.” 

 

She nodded. “Oh, where is he from?” Hermione stabbed a crouton with her fork, dipping it in dressing before bringing it to her mouth. 

 

“Bulgaria.” Ron mumbled angrily as he set his bag down harshly, the seam splitting on the edge of the pavement. Stifling her laugh when he glared at her, Hermione hid her grin behind her hand. “He only got picked over me because his father donates money to the university.” 

 

Hermione scoffed, a sound she did not mean to make outloud. “Surely that isn’t true, Ron. There’s always next time, or maybe if there’s an injury, you can fill in.” 

 

“Doubt it,” Ron replied, ignoring the books that had been dumped onto the semi wet grass. 

 

Electing not to tell him what he should do, especially since he was already in a worse mood than usual, Hermione ate her chips while Theo occasionally stole some. “Have you finished your newest assignment?” Hermione asked. 

 

Theo shook his head. “I was barely able to start. I was roped into helping Professor Slughorn Monday morning.” He reached across the table once more just as Malfoy slid into the spot beside him. “Hey.” 

 

Malfoy nodded, also stealing a chip from her. “These are bland,” he muttered under his breath. “What is he on about?” he asked, tilting his head toward Weasley. 

 

Hermione replied, still pushing her salad around the bowl, “He was beat out for a spot by someone named Krum. And now he’s snogging Lavender like he didn’t just see her this morning.” She rolled her eyes, not looking at the gross display of public affection. “Where were you this morning?” 

 

“I went to a meeting for my father.”

 

Hermione was nodding as the tip of Theo’s shoes knocked against her shin. Laughing, she lightly kicked him back. “But he’s in France. Wouldn’t he have scheduled that for when he was home?” 

 

He shook his head. “It wasn’t planned at all.” Malfoy shrugged, offering little else, and he looked around the quad. 

 

“Do you want to meet in the library tonight?” Theo asked her then, still fighting with her under the table while his lips curved. 

 

“Yes, that would be perfect. I need -” 

 

Hermione was cut off by a loud screech that had her dropping her fork into her salad, and nearly jumping out of her skin. “What do you mean you can’t go this weekend?” Lavender wailed, poking an overgrown, manicured nail into Ron’s chest. “We already planned this!” 

 

Both men in front of her were stifling their laughs, and Hermione had to bite down on her bottom lip so as not to giggle. 

 

Lavender Brown was something else. She was a pretty blonde, and she was nice enough, but she must have been the most exhausting woman Hermione had ever met. Everyone wanted to meet the foreign exchange student - no, that wasn’t her ego saying that - and Brown hadn’t been any different. First asking if she’d like to get her nails done, Hermione politely declined. 

 

She irritated Hermione. With her high pitched voice that reminded her of nails on a chalkboard, and the way she clung to Ron Weasley even though it had only been a month since they started dating one another. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep her from calling out. “What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, masking her face with concern even though Lavender’s red face was comical. 

 

“We planned a date for this weekend, and now he says he’s cancelling to babysit his niece.” Brown crossed her arms. “You should have known you couldn’t go from the start, then.” 

 

Ron rolled his eyes, though his girlfriend couldn’t see it. “It came up at the last minute. Fleur is going to go into labor any day now.” 

 

“Why can’t Ginny watch her?” Lavender argued, smirking when all of the attention landed on them. 

 

“Because,” a voice cut in, “Ginny is going to be on a date that she planned before yours, so she takes priority.” Ginny grinned triumphantly as she slid into the seat beside Malfoy, resting her elbows on the table. “I know you’re upset, but you can always reschedule.” 

 

Still fuming, Lavender snapped, “Maybe so, but we’ll only have one first month anniversary.” 

 

Hermione gagged when the girl looked away. “I feel sorry for Weasley,” she murmured. 

 

“I don’t,” Malfoy drawled. 

 

“How old is she?” Hermione asked. “Your niece, how old is she?” 

 

“Victoire  is four, but she’ll tell you that she’s five if you ask her,” Ron replied, and his eyes softened at the mention of the child. “She’s a little shite.” 

 

Choking on her laugh, Hermione continued, “If it were okay with her parents, I could watch her. I’m just offering to help since I’m sure I’ll be sitting around Saturday night anyway. Narcissa would be home.” A fact she only mentioned because she wanted to help, but her experience with small children was zero, and she was certain she might need rescuing herself. 

 

His girlfriend was thrilled, clapping her hands, and Ron looked indifferent. As if he would have rather missed the date to watch over Victoire . “I’m sure Fleur would be fine with it. Are you sure?” 

 

Despite feeling like he was trying to tell her to say no, she nodded anyway.

* * *

 

Narcissa laughed when she told her how she’d volunteered herself, and the manor to babysit a four year old. And when Hermione said, “How hard can it be?” she wasn’t assured by the way the mother laughed. As it turned out, Narcissa wouldn’t be home, and Draco wouldn’t be home for a few hours either. 

 

Dressed in joggers, and a thin shirt with a knit jacket layered over it, Hermione sat sideways in the porch swing while she waited. Ron’s sister in law had gone into early labor that morning, and they didn’t want their first born at the hospital due to complications. It seemed unlike Molly to not have the child, given what she knew about her, but she wasn’t going to ask about it. 

 

With a book flipped open in her lap, Hermione was beginning to doze off until the familiar sound of tires on gravel reached her ears. Bookmarking her spot in Pride and Prejudice - she’d just gotten to the failed marriage attempt of one loathsome Mr. Collins - she placed it on the swing before making her way to the front steps of the house. 

 

Victoire was a little blonde girl, who wore jeans, and a shirt with a unicorn on it. And she was precious. “This house is huuuuuge.” Hermione heard her say to Ron, who had a hold on her. His niece wrapped her hand around one of his fingers, and followed him to the manor. “Do you live here?” 

 

Hermione nodded. “I do.” 

 

“Alright,” Ron began, handing a bag he’d carried over his shoulder to Hermione. “Fleur packed a change of clothes for her in case she gets into anything. In case you’re wondering, she will get into something.” 

 

Hermione laughed. “Okay. Anything I should know? Allergies, or anything?” 

 

Ron shook his head. “No allergies that we know of is what Bill told me.” The little girl tugged on his trousers. “What?” She motioned for him to kneel down to her. “Oh,” he grumbled, dropping down and letting her whisper in his ear. “Of course I’ll tell her.” Ron grinned, standing back up. “She asked me to tell you that she hates onions.” 

 

“Duly noted.” She smiled. 

 

Victoire yanked on his pant leg again. “What now?” he grumbled, but he made no protest as he leaned back down. “You could tell her yourself,” Ron muttered to no one in particular. “She asked me to tell you that she likes your ring.” 

 

Hermione took in a sharp breath, looking down at the ring that had belonged to her mother. “Thank you,” she replied, crouching down. “It was my mum’s. Would you like to wear it for a while?” Hermione asked softly. 

 

Victoire’s eyes lit up as she nodded, holding her hand out. “Yes!” 

 

“Be careful with it,” Hermione told her, slipping the ring onto her finger, and closing her hand into a fist. “Keep a tight hold on it for me. Anything else?” she asked Ron. 

 

“No.” He shook his head, a slow smile settling on his face. “I think you’ll be fine. If you do need anything, Fleur put a card in there with all emergency contact information for her. I reassured her that she would be fine, but please call her in an hour, or two just to reassure her. Bill will answer, as I’m sure she’ll be busy.” 

 

“Of course; we could video call so she can see her when Fleur is ready. Malfoy would be happy to take her to the hospital once her mum has delivered.” Taking the little girl’s hand into her own, she waved goodbye to Ron. “Have a good time!” 

 

He scoffed. “Fat chance of that.” 

She was a handful, and while she might have been as quiet as a church mouse at first, Victoire didn’t stay that way. The first thing she asked for was a tour around the manor, happily skipping through the halls, but her grip on the oversized ring on her left hand never loosened. The four year old loved Crooks, and asked if she could hold him. “Mummy says I always have to ask before picking up animals.” 

 

“Do you know why that is?” Hermione asked, scooping Crookshanks up and settling him into the girl’s arms. 

 

Victoire giggled, tapping her finger on the cat’s nose before petting the top of his head. “Because they might bite me. Duh.” 

 

Hermione snorted at the way the girl rolled her eyes. “Right you are. Your mum sounds like a smart woman. Let’s go to the kitchen; bring Crooks with you.” 

 

“Wait!” she shouted, and Hermione froze at the top of the stairs, looking over her shoulder. “What’s in there?” Holding the cat in her arm, she pointed to Malfoy’s bedroom door. 

 

“It’s a bedroom,” Hermione answered. “It’s not mine, so you can’t go in there.” 

 

“Just a peek?” She bargained, reaching for the doorknob. “Pretty please?” 

 

Grumbling at the way she batted her eyelashes, Hermione realized that this child probably got away with nearly everything. She knocked softly on the door, her knuckles tapping against it. “Malfoy?” Silence. “If you’re in there doing anything that’s inappropriate, it would be great if you could tell me now.” 

 

At the silence that answered her, she sighed and opened the door. Hermione laid her hand on Victoire’s shoulder, stopping her from bounding in. “Who lives here?” 

 

“Malfoy,” she replied, knowing Victoire didn’t know who that was. 

 

“He lives like a pig,” she deadpanned, wrinkling her nose and turning away from the room. 

 

Choking on her laugh, Hermione shut the door, and walked down the stairs beside the child. “He likes you.” 

 

“Really?” Victoire beamed, her teeth showing as the grinned. “I love him.” 

 

“Yeah, me too.” Hermione led her into the kitchen, pulling her mug from Theo from the cabinets as she turned on the keurig. “Are you hungry?” 

 

She shook her head. “No...but do you think we could make brownies?” 

 

Hermione looked over to her. She’d climbed up into the chair at the table, and Crookshanks was stretching his legs on the table. “Sure, there’s a box of mix up here,” she muttered, stretching up to grab the red box she’d seen Narcissa put away the day before. 

 

“No, no!” Victoire protested. “I want to make them like Grandma does.” At Hermione’s blank stare, she gave the most dramatic sigh. “From scratch, obviously.” 

 

“Fuck,” Hermione hissed under her breath, pulling her phone from her pocket. Surely it couldn’t be that hard when there was little doubt Narcissa had all of the ingredients. “Yeah, sounds good.”

* * *

 

After finding a recipe from the internet, and bending down on her hands and knees to find the hand mixer, Hermione already wanted to quit. Not that she’d ever been much help in the kitchen - her mother like to rag on her for it - but to make something without a mix premade? She’d count herself and Victoire lucky if she didn’t poison the both of them. 

 

Speaking of her current charge, she wouldn’t quit insulting her. “Have you used that before?” Victoire asked, arching an eyebrow. 

 

“Of course I have.” 

 

“It’s not nice to lie.” 

 

“What!” Hermione gaped at her, standing up from the floor. “It’s not nice to accuse someone of lying.” 

 

She folded her arms. “You’re holding it wrong.” 

 

Hermione glanced at the appliance in her hand, realizing that she was holding it upside down. “I’m not great at cooking, or baking,” she admitted begrudgingly. Hermione propped her phone up on the counter. 

 

It was fine. Using the stove to melt the butter, and add sugar, Hermione manned the appliance that could burn children, and she  _ mostly  _ held her tongue when it came to the teasing insults. 

 

“Does your mum bake a lot?” Victoire asked, standing in the chair that Hermione had pulled up to the counter. “My mum bakes all the time.” 

 

Hermione nodded. “Yeah, for every holiday and birthday,” she replied. “If I ever had a bad day at school I would come home to cake.” 

 

“Do you talk to her everyday? Uncle Won said you’re from across the world.” The little girl hummed, bumping Hermione’s side with her hip. 

 

“Won?” Hermione laughed, grinning ear to ear. “She passed away before I came here, but yeah, I talk to her every night before I go to sleep,” Hermione murmured. 

 

A hand settled on her wrist, squeezing it just barely. Glancing up she saw Victoire staring up at her. “I’m really sorry your mummy isn’t here.” 

 

Swallowing hard, Hermione nodded with a weak smile. “Yeah, me too; me too.” 

 

The silence was short lived, but she didn’t mind. Not really. Anything would be better than dwelling on thoughts of her mother. Even if it involved a four year old insulting her lack of finesse in the kitchen every chance she got. 

 

“You’re bad at this.” 

 

“I’m trying my best!” 

 

“Your best isn’t very good,” Victoire quipped, carefully climbing down from her chair. “I’m going to grab my backpack. Be right back!” Hermione watched her pad quietly out of the room, Crookshanks dutifully following her. 

 

Hermione grabbed the sack of flour, moving to open the top, but she was scared by a loud screech behind her. The bag busted as it fell to the floor, and she turned to look down at a sheepish Victoire. Unable to hold back the laugh that bubbled up, Hermione just shook her head. “Look what you’ve done now.” 

 

“No, that was your fault.” 

 

“Was it? Because I’m pretty sure you scared me, and as a result it’s your fault.” 

 

“What does result mean?” 

 

Pinching the bridge of her nose - a very Malfoy like move -, Hermione brushed it off. “Nevermind. It’s still your fault.” At her words, she was met with flour in her face. Spluttering to get the flour out of her mouth, she glared. “You’ll pay for that.” 

 

Victoire shrieked, moving to sprint out of the room, but Hermione threw her arm around her waist as she reached down to grab a handful of flour. She tossed it into her face, into her hair before letting her scramble away. “Hermioneee!” she screamed, kneeling down to grab a handful of flour. 

 

Laughing, and covered from head to toe in flour, Hermione sat in the floor while Victoire spun in circles. “Do you have a boyfriend?” 

 

“I - what?” Hermione laughed, tipping her head back as she snagged her mug from the counter. “What kind of question is that?” 

 

“I like you. You should date Uncle Won.” 

 

“Why?” Hermione stomped down the urge to laugh when she realized just how serious the little girl in front of her looked. 

 

With her hands perched on her hips, she tilted her head, her pony tail fell to the side. “So I could see you more. Duh.” 

 

Snorting at the upteenth time she’d heard that word from a pint sized human - with the attitude of a teenager to make up for it - Hermione shook her head. “You can see me whenever your mum says you can. I’m friends with Ginny.” 

 

“So, no boyfriend?” 

 

“Victoire -” 

 

“What the  _ fu -  _ happened in here?” Malfoy cut himself off, his eyes wide with disbelief as he looked around the kitchen. “Even Crookshanks is covered in flour!” He gaped, glancing at the now white cat that was perched on the table, and currently rubbing his head against Malfoy’s knuckles. 

 

“Hermione broke the flour. We were making brownies.” Victoire answered, plopping herself down into Hermione’s lap. 

 

He nodded dumbly, opening and closing his mouth. Sweat rolled down his forehead, and his hair was sticking to his skin. Shrugging out of his jacket, she gulped behind the girl in her lap. His thin shirt was clinging to his abdomen, and it didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

 

“Granger?” 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“Did you get any of the flour into the brownies?”

* * *

 

“I will pay you to come away from the walls with that marker!” Hermione yelled, yanking the blue marker from Victoire’s hand, which was already outstretched toward the wall by the television. 

 

Malfoy chuckled from the couch. “Why don’t you come sit down? You can watch whatever you like.” He was sprawled on the couch, his arms resting on the back of the suede sofa, but he wasn’t looking at them. His head was tilted back, his eyes settling on the ceiling overhead. 

 

There was a tug on her jumper - a different one she’d changed into since her former was coated in several layers of flour - and a whisper, “I want to ask him a question.” Victoire cupped her hands together, whispering into Hermione’s ear. 

 

“You can ask him whatever you like.” Hermione ruffled her hair with an affectionate smile, already so attached to her. “Go over there, and talk to him. I’m right behind you.” 

 

“He looks scary.” Bright blue eyes were wide as they moved from Hermione to Malfoy. 

 

Giggling under her breath, Hermione smiled. “I bet he’d feel terrible to know you were afraid of him.” With Malfoy still looking away from her, he didn’t notice her point at him. “Crooks is curled up in his lap, and Crooks  _ loves _ him. So he can’t be all that bad, can he?” 

 

With a stubborn set of her lip, Victoire walked across the room as if it was just to prove she would. Her pants were too long for her, dragging along the carpet as she climbed onto the couch, and sat beside Malfoy. “Mister,” she began, and Hermione’s heart clenched when Draco settled an arm around her shoulders. 

 

“What do you like to watch?” he asked her. 

 

For fuck’s sake, could he possibly be anymore attractive? First it was the tattoos, and the rugged stereotype that either infuriated her, or captured her attention, and now - 

 

He was bloody perfect with children. 

 

Victoire pushed the remote down, peering up at him. “I have a question. Do you have to put your tattoos on  _ everyday _ , or does your mum help you?” 

 

Hermione choked, a strangled giggle tearing from her throat as she grinned ear to ear. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, taking in the shocked look on Malfoy’s face, and wishing she would have been able to take a picture quick enough. 

 

“They’re permanent,” he answered, and Hermione fell silent, her laugh completely dying off as she took in the wide smile on his face. “They don’t come off, and my mum hates them.” 

 

“What do they feel like?” she asked. 

 

Hermione took a seat on the other side of the girl, tucking her legs beneath her. She watched as he told Victoire she could feel for herself, and he picked up her much smaller hand and set it on his forearm. She traced the ink in his skin, her eyes widening. “Hermione!” she shouted, reaching behind her to grab her hand. “Feel his arm!” 

 

Laughing, Hermione ran her index finger along his forearm, and up his bicep. His muscles were hard beneath her fingertips, and curious, she poked his bicep. “I wouldn’t have thought it would be squishy,” she murmured. 

 

“Let me at least flex, Granger.” He chuckled under his breath, his eyes meeting hers over the top of Victoire’s head. “Now try.” He smirked when she winced, gripping her finger and glaring at him. 

 

Once the little girl was satisfied with knowing how tattoos felt, she slid off of the couch to grab her backpack. It was a small, bright pink bag with a snap closure. At the sight of her pulling her box of markers from the inner compartment, Hermione nearly lunged off the couch. Only to have Malfoy’s hand settle on her shoulder and rip her backward. 

 

She’d been coerced - hardly, the child had begged her, and who was she to say no - to paint Victoire’s nails, and she was now working on her toenails. Ron’s niece clambered back onto the couch, and held the box of twelve markers close to her chest. “Can I color on you?” 

 

Malfoy nodded, flicking through the channels on the television, switching arms so he could lay his arm flat. “Did you wash your hands?” he asked with a smirk. “Anytime you give someone a tattoo, you have to be careful to wash your hands.” And that was all it took to have her jumping off of the couch and sprinting for the bathroom. 

 

“You’re fucking adorable,” Hermione blurted, her hair falling like a curtain as she tilted her head sideways to look at him. With her knees tucked close to her chest, and her toes peeking out from the hem of her fluffy pajamas, she was in the middle of painting her toenails. “I don’t understand how you can be such an ass, but you’re just -” 

 

“She was afraid of me,” he commented, but there was a pale pink tinge to his cheeks. “And I’ll admit I’ve been an arse lately.” 

 

She coughed to mask her laugh. “Well, you’ve made her very happy. She’ll probably never want to go home now, you know.” 

 

“I’m ready!” she called out, running as fast as she could at the couch, and jumping onto it. 

 

As she set to work on his arm, touching up the lower half of the sleeve of his right arm, Hermione grabbed her phone. Snapping a picture when he wasn’t looking, and Victoire was biting down on her bottom lip in concentration as she carefully coloured inside of the lines, she sent the photo Pansy. Accompanied by the caption -  _ I think my ovaries just exploded.  _

 

Resting her phone on her kneecap as she made the final touches on her toenails, she waited for Pansy to reply. Her friend was constantly glued to her mobile, and would respond immediately without a doubt. At the vibration, Hermione opened it quickly.  _ I shrieked and Harry is so confused, but oh my God, how fucking cute is he?  _

 

_ Incredibly.  _ Hermione replied, laughing to herself. 

 

Settled into the couch, and watching a Christmas movie that was airing early, she nearly fell asleep. She surely would have if there hadn’t been a loud yell echoing in the corridor. 

 

“Draco, where are you?” She snapped awake at Theo’s voice, glancing over at Malfoy, who was still humouring Victoire. With one full arm done, she’d switched sides, and this was how Hermione realized - 

 

She was peering up at him, and not from across the couch. Because she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, moving off of him just as Theo turned the corner into the living room, but Hermione didn’t look up at him quite yet. 

 

“No problem, Granger. At least you don’t drool,” Draco told her, nearly bumping his forehead against hers as he stood. “I’ll be right back so decide which colours you want to use. You can’t make me look too girly.” He told Victoire, who was pouting as he left.

 

Hermione was already dozing off again as Victoire set to colouring her arms instead after pushing up the warm sleeves of her jumper.

* * *

 

“Don’t lecture me, Theo. I’m not going to stand here and listen to it.” Draco warned him as they barely made it out of earshot. “I’m not willing to talk to you about it.” 

 

“What the fuck was  _ that _ ?” he hissed, knocking him up against the wall. “You knew I was coming over here.” 

 

Draco scoffed, pushing him back. “If you’re insinuating that I was in there just to make you jealous, you’ve even less intelligent than I’ve been led to believe,” he said lowly, looking down the hall to see if Hermione had come out. “I thought you were coming over later.” He stressed. “I would not have made a show just to irritate you.”

 

“Why else would you be in there, looking like a bloody Hallmark movie?” Theo argued. “You’ve known I’ve wanted her -” 

 

“Maybe I do too, Theo,” Draco deadpanned, and his best mate fell silent. “Maybe I have since I was  _ supposed  _ to take her to London, but you had to snatch her out from under me.” 

 

“I don’t want to fight with you, but I can’t believe that you’re doing this out of your own emotions, and not to get back at me. You look like you’re playing house. You’re fucking cruel to her, Draco.” 

 

Malfoy snorted. “I was, yeah, and I’ve been working on it. It’s not my fault you move so fucking slow.” 

  
  



	10. The Build Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m sorry I’m a little later than I wanted to be. My goal is to update every 1 - 2 weeks. The good news is that this is my nano project, and if all goes well, I’ll have the next 50k words done. Including this one, but whatever. In case you forgot, this is rated M. And Mrs. Ren likes her smut quite a bit. Sadly the smut isn’t here yet, so think lime instead of lemon. ;)

 

  
  
  


“Sorry I’m late,” Hermione muttered, tossing her bag onto the aging oak desk in the library. Theo’s hand shot out to catch it as it nearly slid off the edge. . She winced, taking her seat carefully, and flipped g her spiral notebook open. “One of these days I’ll learn that I should just take notes on my laptop like every other student instead of writing them by hand and then transcribing them.” 

 

He chuckled low under his breath. “Liar.” At the arch of her eyebrow, he continued. “Come on, Hermione. We both know that will never happen. As you’ve told me several times, it’s a  _ process. _ ” 

 

“A process that has worked splendidly thus far.” She snorted, clicking her pen and settling into page six of her handwritten notes. Drawing another box for a set of bullet points, she barely glanced up when someone slid into the spot beside Theo. 

 

It wasn’t someone she knew, though she expected to see Ginny, or even Pansy staring back at her. No, it was the blonde she’d slammed into on her first day. What had Malfoy said her name was? Something Greengrass? Fully intending to ignore her, Hermione drummed her fingers against the smooth surface of the desk. 

 

Of course, her plan was dashed the second the woman spoke. “Will Draco be meeting you here?” 

 

“No.” Hermione answered before Theo could open his mouth. At the silence, she realized her tone must have been harsh. Not that she particularly cared, but it was hard to focus with someone staring at her. Dropping the ballpoint pen, she leaned back in her seat, and took a good look at the blonde. “Malfoy never meets us in the library. If you’re looking for him, he won’t be back for few days.” Hermione swallowed her instant dislike for the girl. 

 

She didn’t have a reason to not like Greengrass, nothing beyond the fact that her general demeanor irritated her. With the flashy rings on her fingers, and two positioned at her knuckles, it was clear that her ensemble cost more than her parent’s mortgage - when they had still paid a mortgage. 

 

“What do you mean? Where has he gone?” 

 

Wanting to ask why it was any of her business, Hermione only just managed to stomp down the urge. “He’s in Paris for Lucius,” she answered, hoping that she wouldn’t have to elaborate. When Malfoy had swept out of the manor last minute at three in the morning,he hadn’t spared any details. She doubted he would have told her anything even if he’d had the time. “He’ll be back Friday.” 

 

“Oh.” Her shoulders fell.”Do you know if he plans to go to Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party next month?” Greengrass asked, folding her hands below the table in her lap. 

 

Hermione nodded as she reached for her water bottle. “I’m sure he’ll be there. Are you attending as well?” She asked, sipping her water. She’d long closed since her notebook, Theo doing the same with his textbook and laptop. It wasn’t as if they would be getting anything done. 

 

The tops of her cheeks grew red as she avoided an answer. “Well, I wasn’t invited by Professor Slughorn, no.” She admitted quietly, and Hermione  _ swore _ that it took every ounce of self control she had not to snort. “Forgive me for being so rude, I’m Astoria Greengrass.” 

 

Hermione smiled, reaching across to shake her outstretched hand.  “Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you, Astoria.” 

 

“Oh,” Astoria laughed lightly. “I know who you are. Professor Slughorn adores you for some reason.” 

 

Ignoring that not-so-subtle insult, one that even had Theo’s eyebrows shooting towards his hairline, Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “A fact that I assure you I had nothing to do with. He zeroed in on me nearly as soon as I got here. Perhaps Malfoy will ask you to the party.” Hermione suggested with false kindness. 

 

Not that the thought bothered her so much. There was nothing between them beyond a small crush that couldn’t have been helped; not with Pansy, Luna, and Ginny whispering in her ear, and the times that he proved to be a good person.

 

Judging from the curve of Astoria’s lips, it was exactly what she wanted to hear. “Well, if I can be honest, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

 

“I know that,” Hermione deadpanned, smirking when Astoria’s triumphant smile slipped from her face. “Astoria, it wasn’t hard to see where you were steering this conversation, and why you came over in the first place considering you’ve never sought me out in the few months I’ve been here.” 

 

“Are you his date then?” Astoria asked flatly, her pointed, manicured nails dragging along the surface of the desk. “Slughorn is constantly vocal about his matchmaking skills, and well, forgive me, but I don’t see it.” 

 

“Tori, that’s -” Theo began, but was interrupted. 

 

Hermione’s voice cut across the quiet space of the library, no doubt being heard by Madam Pince, and any other bystanders. “And what is that supposed to mean, Greengrass?” 

 

Astoria’s eyes, hidden behind her styled bangs, widened. “I just meant that he would never be interested in you. You aren’t his type.” She defended, motioning with a delicate hand toward Hermione. “You’re ridiculous. You’re rough with the other boys, and I’m sorry to say that you’re nothing like him.” 

 

“Well, wouldn’t it be boring if he was dating a carbon copy of himself?” Hermione asked then, standing and leaning across the table. “Because if you’re so sure that you’re what his type is, I’m sure he would already be dating you.” 

 

The girl across from her gaped. It appeared Astoria had been stunned into silence, and she could only open and close her mouth in response. 

 

“Theo, would you like to go to the Leaky with me? I don’t think I’ll be able to get any work done afterall.” Hermione said, shoving her notes, and laptop into her bag before sliding it over her shoulder. “I was meant to meet Pansy there later, but I’m sure she wouldn't mind coming to get me if you’re staying.” 

 

He stood from the table and nodded to her. “That’s fine. I’m nearly done anyway since I don’t handwrite and then type.” 

 

“Fuck off.” She muttered. “I’d say it was nice talking to you Astoria, but I’d rather not lie. If you want Malfoy to ask you to Slughorn’s party, you should just call him, and ask him yourself.” Hermione said, waving a goodbye as she followed Theo out of the library.

* * *

 

With a raised eyebrow she took the cup from Theo’s extended hand. While she didn’t ask how exactly he’d known what to get her while she was in the bathroom, he offered the information voluntarily. 

 

Theo cleared his throat and,  with a slight tinge rising to his cheeks, he said, “I pay attention is all.” He sat across from her, flicking through social media on his phone, and not looking up to see her reaction to his words at all. 

 

Hermione smirked, waiting for him to work his way up to what he really wanted to say. The light dusting that covered his cheeks was adorable, and she looked away before he could catch her. 

 

“So,” he sighed, scratching the back of his head - a nervous tick she had noticed, “Astoria.” 

 

She glanced at him over the rim of her styrofoam cup as she took a sip, testing just how hot her coffee was. “Are you going to tell me I was too harsh?” Hermione asked, sliding her cup back and forth between her hands as she looked at him. 

 

The corner of his mouth lifted as he shook his head. “No,” he told her quietly. “Tori is a bitch; she deserved for someone to push her off her pedestal. I thought I would tell you that you sounded jealous.” 

 

She choked. “I’m sorry?” 

 

He smirked. “I mean, it’s none of my business if you have a thing with Draco, but -” 

 

“I don’t,” she said, gritting her teeth. “She just got under my skin is all.” Hermione replied, echoing his early words, sipping her coffee once more. On the side, Angelina had foregone her name, instead choosing to scribble  _ H _ . She smiled to herself, glancing over at the packets of sugar - really, she was avoiding the gaze on Theo’s face. 

 

Until finally, he looked away from her and pulled his laptop from his bag. “We have a while until the others are here,” he spoke quietly. “Maybe you should get back to typing up your notes, yeah?” There was a smirk twisting the corner of his mouth, and she kicked him under the table. 

 

“You shouldn’t give me such a hard time, Theo. You won’t be laughing when I have higher marks than you.” Hermione grinned, the tip of her shoe connecting with his shin when he - lightly - kicked her back.

* * *

 

Sitting at the edge of her bed, her legs crossed, Hermione flipped open her book. Of course she’d read it a hundred times, and most recently only a few weeks ago before babysitting, but a good book felt like coming home. And Hermione Granger missed home an awful bit that Saturday morning. 

 

It wasn’t the home she missed, she thought as tears burned the back of her eyes. Though anyone with a semblance of a brain would understand that she didn’t miss the structure that she’d grown up in, nor the four walls of her bedroom. From the kitchen island where she remembered sitting as her mother fed her breakfast, and packed her lunch, to the rickety swingset in the backyard they had never taken down. 

 

Slamming her copy of Pride and Prejudice closed, Hermione laid it behind her. She just wasn’t able to pay attention for long enough to lose herself in the tale of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Grumbling to herself, she dug through the bottom of her closet, rifling through a box that was filled from top to bottom with keepsakes, she withdrew a photo album. 

 

Hermione stepped into her slippers, digging her toes into the warm plush. The corridor was drafty, and Crooks followed her with a soft meow as she slowly descended the stairs. At seven in the morning, she ought to have stayed asleep. Woken by dreams of her mother - not a nightmare, just a memory that left her nauseous - she found that sleep was impossible. 

 

Her Keurig was already on and Narcissa sat at the table, sipping her coffee as she read that morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she called, waving Hermione over. “Have a seat; let me make you a cup.” 

 

“I - alright,” Hermione conceded, setting down the heavy photo album. Taking a look down, she regretted not changing out of her ratty pajamas with a hole in the knee, and wished she’d changed into something other than a shirt she’d had since she was thirteen. 

 

“What’s on your mind?” Narcissa asked, stretching up to reach one of the several mugs in the cupboard, the hem of her silk robe dragging along the tile. “You look unwell.” 

 

Her voice catching in the back of her throat, Hermione’s eyes strayed to the book on the table. “It’s -” she broke off pitifully, looking over to Narcissa while her lower lip trembled “- it’s one of those days.” Hermione admitted, her eyes filling with tears. 

 

Narcissa left the cup, filled with coffee and steaming, on the counter as she rushed toward Hermione. “Oh, love,” she murmured, kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in hers. “I wish I could tell you these days will stop one day.” 

 

Hermione nodded, as the first sob wrenched out of her throat; the sound was horribly loud against the backdrop of the kitchen. “I wonder if it will ever be easier. I mean, it’s just -” she sobbed “- I can take a trip with my friends, or I can fill out this list like she told me I should, but it always comes back. This guilt that I shouldn’t be happy when, when -” 

 

Narcissa pulled her forward, quite literally picking her up out of the chair, and she brought Hermione onto the floor with her. Humming low in her ear, the mother cradled Hermione’s head against her shoulder. “Did you know that I video chatted your mum?” A nod. “Hermione, I know that you don’t need me to tell you how she would have wanted you to be happy, or that she would have never wanted you to feel guilty for pursuing happiness.” Narcissa sunk her fingers into Hermione’s curls, undoing the tangles that had knotted overnight. 

 

“It’s not fair.” Hermione shook her head. “I haven’t broke down since I left - not like I thought I should, and shouldn’t I see her in everything I do?” 

 

Narcissa shook her head. “You can’t do that to yourself. Everyone grieves differently.” Sucking in a breath, Hermione buried her face in her shoulder. “I lost my mum a few years ago,” Narcissa told her. “And despite being into my late forties, it still broke me to what I thought was beyond repair.” 

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Hermione murmured. 

 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Narcissa said, squeezing her arms around Hermione’s middle. “Let me tell you something about grief, little love and then we will look through those photos, okay?” 

 

Hermione nodded, sitting up, and trying to take her weight off of the woman. She was still sick at times, Hermione reminded herself. “Please don’t tell me that I have to accept it.” 

 

She snorted. “That wasn’t funny at all, but please know I would  _ never _ . Lucius told me that in a moment of callousness, and I nearly performed his vasectomy myself. No, Hermione, grief is...come to the table.” Holding her hand out, she waited for Hermione to help her up. “Hand me that pen.” 

 

Hermione peered over her shoulder as she drew a circle that was six inches across on the newspaper. “Of course, this isn’t what I would like to use since Lucius hasn’t read it yet.” She laughed to herself. “This circle is life right now,” She told Hermione, motioning for her to come closer as she filled in the circle with ink, leaving no space open. “And this is your life while you grieve. So, as you don’t need me to tell you, sometimes it touches everything, and that’s okay. What you said about enjoying your life, and why you shouldn’t, it struck a chord. I said something similar once when Lucius made reservations for the anniversary of our first date.” 

 

Hermione held her hand up. “Your anniversary, or -?” 

 

Narcissa laughed. “Oh, no, December seventh is the first time I went out with him, and he took me to a film, and a dinner. We do the same thing every year.” 

 

“Oh, my God.” Hermione grinned ear to ear, for a moment content to ignore the lesson in front of her. “Is he even real?” 

 

Narcissa barked a laugh. “Find you a Lucius, Hermione. Don’t be fooled,” she remarked, tapping her on the nose with her pen. “He was a prat when I met him, but the man aged like fine wine, so who am I to complain?” 

 

Laughing, Hermione nodded. “Okay, well, I’ll be on the lookout for my Lucius,” she murmured, bracing her hands against the back of the chair. 

 

“They’re sometimes closer than you think,” Narcissa said. “Lucius was a close childhood friend of mine. Back to this though - grief is in every part of your life, and some people say that it gets easier because the grief grows smaller, but that simply isn’t true.” 

 

Hermione paled as she went on. 

 

“Grief doesn’t get smaller. Your life expands around it,” Narcissa told her, drawing another larger circle around the shaded in one. “This is where you find the strength to keep going. For me it was different things - going to lunch with my son everyday because it was all he could do to get me out of bed, or maybe it was smaller, trivial things like Lucius handing me his credit card. Hermione, being happy doesn’t mean you loved her any less, or that you miss her any less.” 

 

Her eyes welled with tears, and she looked up at the squeaking against the tile. “Malfoy?” She gasped, taking in his frozen stance as her cheeks heated with embarrassment; of all the people to witness her at her lowest...“I - would you please leave?” she asked politely, gnawing at her bottom lip. 

 

He nodded, his eyes softening as he grabbed his suitcase, and stepped out of the room. 

 

“Forgive him, I’m sure he feels worse than you do for barging in like that. Jean knew exactly what she was doing when she helped you make that list. She was helping you make enough happiness to accompany the sadness.” Narcissa brushed Hermione’s hair from her forehead. “So fill out the list, okay? And when you have a bad day, come to me, and I will carry the worst of it.” She smiled, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. 

 

And Hermione felt incredibly small, and fragile when she whispered, “Why?” 

 

And there was a breathy laugh from Narcissa as she crushed Hermione to her chest. “Because that’s what mothers do, Hermione, and yours was kind enough to entrust me with you. I love you, little adventurer, and you are half my heart.”

* * *

 

Malfoy had met her in the hallway shortly after, and while the interaction had been short, it was still weighing on her mind. Standing against the ornate door trim of his own bedroom, his arms were folded across his chest. He hadn’t changed out of his suit, which he’d buttoned at the middle when he saw her coming. 

 

Hermione’s mouth dried as she took him in. There was just something about a man in a suit that made them so much more appealing. “I thought you were meant to be back yesterday.” She offered, rubbing her eyes with the bottoms of her palms. They were surely still red, and puffy. “I just have to grab something,” she muttered, rushing into her bedroom. 

 

He followed, his footsteps soft behind her as she dug through the box of albums. “That was wishful thinking. I took a flight out this morning. Are you alright?” 

 

She froze, save for her fingers clenching the leather bound photo album. It wasn’t as if she could plaster a smile on her face, and say of course she was alright, not when he’d already witnessed her breaking apart in the kitchen. Heaving a sigh, Hermione stood up and faced him. “Not really,” she admitted, and much like a dam breaking, the tears came again. “This isn’t something I would have talked about with you. I just - some days are harder than others, and you walked in at a bad time.” 

 

He nodded, a sort of tense movement, his jaw clenched as he stepped toward her. “I understand.” He watched her closely and reached for her as she gave him a weak smile. “I don’t know what to say.” 

 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Hermione said, tilting her head to the side. “What are you -?” 

 

“I’m going to hug you,” he murmured, and she couldn’t help the way she burst into laughter. 

 

Still giggling at the offended look on his face, she grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him closer. “Draco, you don’t have to warn me if you’re going to hug me.” She laughed into the pressed fabric of his suit. Wishing she didn’t have the album in hand so she would be able to give him a full hug, she settled for wrapping both arms around his neck, albeit awkwardly. 

 

His chest was warm, and his fingers ran along her spine, but only for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he whispered next to her ear, his arms giving her a final squeeze before he let go. 

 

Hermione’s smile was bright as she  scrambled to let go so he wouldn’t think she’d been content to hold on, and she nodded. “I appreciate that. We’re going through photo albums downstairs if you’re not too tired to join us. Narcissa went to find some, and I’m greatly looking forward to seeing your baby pictures.” She grinned.

* * *

 

Malfoy clearly knew how to be on his best behavior, so when it came time to their varying morning routines, she knew he was being a prick just to be a prick. In the months since she’d been there, Hermione had picked up on a couple of things. 

 

His friends might tease that he was high maintenance, but she didn’t believe he was. No, he simply enjoyed long, hot showers that used all of the hot water. Being winter, Hermione usually got around this issue by showering at night. 

 

In this instance, however, she’d foregone that decision the night before when she got home at two A.M with Pansy. While Pansy had left to go home and shower, Hermione was left to stand in the hallway. WIth her bathrobe - courtesy of Narcissa, the woman had  _ everything _ embroidered - draped over her shoulders, and a towel slung over her arm for her hair, she was left waiting impatiently for Malfoy to finish. Something that he surely wouldn’t do until there was absolutely no hot water. And she was not going to arrive at a school that she’d been given the gift of attending while smelling like the cheap vodka Neville had spilled over her. 

 

Knocking once, and then twice, there was no response from the blond on the other side of the door, so she ambled down the stairs in a hurry. There was only forty five minutes until they had to leave, and blow drying her hair would take the most of it. 

 

_ Fucking curls _ , she thought to herself. Everyone wants them, but no one sees what an utter pain in the arse they are. 

 

Narcissa and Lucius’  bedroom was across the manor, and up another flight of stairs that she nearly fell while running up. Holding the hem of the robe, she hurried on, and as she finally came to their bedroom door, she rapped her knuckles lightly against the white wood. 

 

No one answered, but judging from the faint sound of running water, and the giggling - both male and female - her pseudo-parents were showering together. And who was she to cut that short? 

 

Grumbling, she stormed back to the bathroom she typically used, and took a deep breath before pounding on the door angrily. “Malfoy! You need to hurry the fuck up!” Hermione barked, tapping her foot against the floor impatiently. 

 

“No, you can use the other bathroom,” he called back, and she could just imagine the stupid smirk on his face. “This bathroom is mine in the mornings.”

 

“Well, your parents are showering together in the other bathroom, so I would say that one is taken. Come on, it doesn’t take a half hour to shower!” At the silence, she groaned, and banged on the door again. “Malfoy, I smell like a pit stop diner -” if said diner also had copious amounts of booze, which they might “- so if you don’t hurry up, I’ll -” 

 

“You’ll what?” He laughed over the running water. “You’ll join me, Granger?” 

 

Her eyes narrowed, as she stormed right back into her room, and put on her bra, and knickers before slipping back into her robe. If he wanted to be sarcastic, then  _ fine _ . Surely, he would bolt anyway. 

 

Malfoy never locked the door, something she’d realized when she walked into the bathroom while he was showering once, but she couldn’t have seen anything through the fogged up curtain. And over the water, he didn’t hear the door open. Biting her lip, and glancing at herself in the mirror, Hermione reminded herself that she had time to back out of this. 

 

Nevermind that, she was down to thirty minutes, and she desperately needed a shower. She hung her robe on the rack next to the shower, and didn’t look at her reflection again as she reached for the curtain. Hermione pulled the curtain back on the opposite side he stood on, and stepped in. “Could you step out of the way so I can wash my hair please?” she asked, somehow keeping a straight face. 

 

Malfoy’s eyes shot open, and he made it no secret as his gaze raked her up and down. “Granger?” he spluttered. “What the fuck are you  _ doing _ ?” 

 

Pressing past him, and certainly  _ not _ looking down, her back slid against his torso as she made her way under the stream. “Joining you?” She offered sarcastically. “No, I needed a shower before class, and would you want to take a cold shower?” Hermione asked, tipping her head back and running her fingers through the thick strands in an effort to detangle them. 

 

“I might have to.” She would have sworn he muttered it, but she couldn’t be sure with the sound of rushing water in her ears. “I need to rinse my hair out,” he rasped, reaching to pull her to the side by her shoulder, her skin slippery against his touch. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll get out of the shower.” 

 

Hermione shrugged, grabbing the shampoo and working the product into her hair. In a hurry as well, she took the chance to scrub her body, paying no mind to how she shouldn’t have worn white of all colors. It was a plain bra -semi plain - she corrected since it had a lace trim. “I won’t be long,” she told him as he moved to step out of the shower. 

 

Malfoy stepped out with his back to her, the realization of  _ why _ would strike her later.

 

Hermione resisted the urge to reach out and run her fingers down his back, along the intricate tattoos that made up a solitary back piece. Biting her lip to stop a humiliating whimper from escaping her mouth, Hermione watched his back muscles contract as he reached for a towel, and then the curtain was closed.

 

And she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t stolen a glimpse at his arse while his back was turned.

* * *

 

He locked his bedroom door behind him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip until he was sure he would draw blood. 

 

Fucking Granger. Hermione, he corrected himself in private, but calling her Granger riled her up, and fuck - he enjoyed her ten times more when she was riled up. She’d been smirking when he turned to face her, her eyes lit up with mischief. 

 

Being the good girl she was, he knew she hadn’t looked down, hadn’t looked at his hard cock that he’d already wrapped his fingers around. He sat at the edge of his bed, still reeling from what had just happened. Of course he’d been teasing her by saying she could join him. He hadn’t bloody expected her to do it, and the flimsy knickers she’d worn hadn’t done much to protect her modesty. 

 

No, with the water cascading over her body, the material had revealed more than it had hidden. It was the sight of her cunt outlined by translucent knickers that had done him in, or maybe it was how she leaned her head back, and droplets splashed against her chest. Or, he hazarded a guess, it could have been her nipples stiffening against the fabric - dusky pink, and he wanted her. 

 

She wouldn’t have gotten in the shower if she didn’t find him attractive. He should have kissed her, should have pinned her to the wall with his body, his hand sliding down her stomach, and toying with the edge of her knickers. Groaning softly, he stroked his cock, his mind still focused on the thought that he hadn’t locked to door. 

 

It would be so easy to step into the bathroom once more, to tilt her face up and kiss her before picking her up. It was a clear, explicit image that Malfoy thought of - picking her up at her waist, her legs wrapping around his hips as he slid into her, a cry bubbling up on her lips as he took her whimpers for himself. 

 

And as he spilled into his hand - it hadn’t taken much, only a few pumps - Hermione knocked on the door. She called out, “Draco, we need to leave, or we’ll be late.” 

 

Growling low under his breath, he grabbed a towel, and wiped his hand clean. He was fucked.

* * *

 

Hermione told Pansy about how she’d up and jumped into the shower with Draco Malfoy, who told Luna, who in turn told Ginny, and her day imploded at that point. 

 

In whisper-style screams at the corner of the quad, Ginny’s eyes were wide, bright, and far too mischevious for anyone’s sake. “Did you look at his dick?” Ginny asked, point blank, and she didn’t even flinch. 

 

Pansy howled with laughter, drawing the attention of the rest of the group - which, while they were far away, Hermione was certain they had heard  _ that  _ little question. “What the fuck kind of question is that?” Hermione choked on her water, and it burned as it came out her nose. “Jesus Christ, you bitch, he definitely heard that.” 

 

Ginny shrugged. “So what if he did? It’s not like he forgot you merrily hopped into the shower with him. And with as red as your cheeks are, I’m wondering if you’re having some obscene thoughts about it.” The redhead smirked, tugging the sleeves of her crimson jumper over her hands. Her sweater had a golden G sewn into the front, and God help anyone who chose to comment on it. 

 

“Like what?” Hermione hissed. “It was a shower, and only because he would have used all of the hot water,” she muttered, pushing the tab of her travel mug back. “Plus he got out nearly as soon as I got in, so it’s a moot point really.” 

 

Pansy snorted, clutching her sides. “Oh, my God. Hermione, just walk me through what happened, would you?” 

 

Rolling her eyes, she leaned against the column and glared at her friends. “I said, ‘Malfoy, I smell like a pit stop diner. Get out of the shower, or else.’ Or something along those lines. I don’t know, Pansy! I was distracted by the fact of what have I done? Why would I just get in the shower?” She rambled, throwing her hands up in the air, and she caught a glimpse of Malfoy’s smirk over her friend’s shoulder. 

 

“Yes, why would you?” Luna smiled ear to ear as she asked. 

 

“Because like the cheeky son of a bitch he is, Malfoy goes -” dropping her voice into an awful imitation, “- ‘or what, Granger? You’ll join me?’ So I did, and I guarantee he won’t make that mistake again.” 

 

The three girls exchanged a look. And Ginny broke the silence. “Yeah, okay, Hermione. That’s what’s going to happen.” 

 

“What?” Hermione muttered, taking a drink of her coffee. “And in the end, I still didn’t finish drying my hair.” 

 

Ginny shot Hermione a knowing look, but changed the subject even though Pansy was rallying to ask for a detailed description of Malfoy’s body. “I was talking with Malfoy, and the others earlier. We should go ice skating this weekend. They’ve just renovated.” Ginny spoke, her gaze falling to Hermione when the other two had already agreed. 

 

“I suppose it could be fun.” Hermione bit out.

* * *

 

It could be fun, Hermione thought, for someone who could ice skate, or someone who didn’t possess two left feet. Sure, ice skating would be fun for them. At the entrance, she stood to the side of Pansy, cutting Harry off from holding his girlfriend’s hand. 

 

And as if to drive a point, Pansy grabbed Hermione’s hand, and swung it as they waited for skates to be handed to them in their size. “You’ll be fine.” Pansy reassured her. “There’s nothing to it once you get used to it.” 

 

Shaking her head, Hermione took the pair the clerk handed to her. “That’s assuming I can get the hang of it.” 

 

“Oh, no doubt you’ll fall on your arse a few times, but you’ll just get back up,” Pansy sang, leading her down a hallway. 

 

The rink itself was massive. Completely renovated from one end to the other, Hermione couldn’t help but think of how she might get stuck on the other side where there was no opening and she’d have to crawl to the nearest way off the ice. Shoving that particular train of thought away, she fell into a seat, and kicked her converse off. 

 

Pansy sat in front of her with Harry, laughing at something he’d whispered in her ear. 

 

“You’ve never ice skated?” Malfoy asked, taking the seat beside her, and kicking his boots off. “It’s not hard.” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “No, I haven’t. And somehow I think this is like the time you told me that getting a tattoo doesn’t really hurt, but it actually hurts like hell.” She snorted, drawing the laces of the white skates tight as she tied the first one. 

 

“Well,” he breathed, “if that’s the case, I suppose you’ll have to hold my hand again.” 

 

Hermione’s head whipped to the side, her eyes widened. “You jerk, stop teasing me about that. It was one time.” She laughed lacing up the second shoe. 

 

“No.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I will.” As he donned his skates, Pansy held her hand out, and nodded towards the ice. “Go on, Granger.” He nudged her. 

 

Sliding onto the ice awkwardly, her legs spreading farther apart than they really should, Hermione gripped the railing to keep herself from landing in an awkward split. “This was a  _ terrible _ idea.” She hissed to Pansy, and she wouldn’t let go of the railing no matter how her friend tried to tug her father onto the ice. “I’m awful at this.” 

 

“How would you know?” Pansy laughed. “You haven’t even tried.” 

 

Shavings of the ice shot onto Hermione’s skates, and she looked up to see Theo standing in front of her. “Come on, take my hand,” he urged her, and Hermione shook her head quickly. “It’s really not that bad. So what if you fall a few times?” 

 

“I’m worried about pulling my hamstring.” Hermione snorted, but he didn’t leave her much choice as he pulled her off the wall. 

 

Theo’s hand was warm against hers, his fingers sliding through the gaps of her own. “There’s nothing to it,” he told her, a wide smile splitting his face. Hermione glanced down at his feet, watching the way he managed to skate backwards while pulling her along with him. “Think you can do it on your own?” 

 

“Fuck no.” She laughed, letting him swing her around, but gripping onto his hands as hard as she could. “I don’t even know where I would start with trying to skate.” 

 

“Perhaps by putting one foot in front of the other?” Harry said, skating past her, and nearly knocking her over. “Better hold onto Theo tighter there, Granger Danger!” He snorted, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand, and joining her for a lap around the rink. 

 

Redness pooled in her cheeks. “You know you don’t have to stay with me, right?” Hermione pointed out, glancing up at Theo. His cheeks were flushed, probably from the cold inside the building, and she paid it little mind as he skated slowly with her. “Really, I’ll figure this out eventually.” 

 

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t mind. I can’t think of anything more entertaining than watching you try to ice skate.” Theo laughed, drawing her close, and spinning her - but still slowly. 

 

Not that it mattered, considering the way her screech echoed throughout the rink. The ice was hard below her as she took them both down, an ill-timed moved of trying to skate and her foot sliding the opposite direction.  “Fuck.” Hermione gasped as her head hit the ice, and her fingers slid over the sore spot. “That hurt,” she muttered, her arse already freezing through her jeans. 

 

“Give me your hands.” Theo smiled, standing and pulling her up. “Alright, why don’t we go over there so you can use the railing to keep your balance?” 

 

Looking over at the spot where several small children were learning to skate, she crinkled her nose. “While it says ‘practice zone’, I think it’s for children that are under this height.” Hermione giggled, holding her arm up to her midriff. 

 

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, use the railing on the sides then,” Theo told her, yelling hello to Luna, and Ginny while he whisked Hermione to the side of the rink. 

 

Hermione grabbed onto the railing, nearly toppling over once more when he let go of her. “This is awful.” She cringed, testing herself as she slid one foot forward. And then there was a high pitched laugh that caught her attention. Her head snapping up, she recognized the blonde standing in front of Malfoy. “That’s Astoria, right?” 

 

Theo nodded, giving her room to move along the wall. “Looks like it; maybe she asked him to Slughorn’s party.” 

 

She looked at them, at how comfortable the blonde obviously seemed in laying her hand on Malfoy’s shoulder, or carding her fingers through his hair. “Doubt it.” Hermione shrugged. “Go out there,” she told Theo, testing herself a bit more. “I’m going to see if I can skate to you, sound good?” 

 

Already skating backwards - the bloody show off - Theo nodded with a grin. “You’re sure?” 

 

“You’ll catch me if I fall face first?” She ventured, grimacing. Glancing around, she noticed all of the other visitors had clearly done this before, and then there was Luna. Who was in the middle of the rink, performing some kind of fucking trick where she jumped  _ and _ spun. Shaking her head, Hermione agreed before she could talk herself out of it. “This is just doing this exact same thing,” she murmured, showing how she could skate, but only two steps, baby steps, “consecutively. Surely I can do it if that four year old over there can do it!” 

 

It didn’t go badly, quite the opposite if she were honest. While she almost ate ice, Hermione increased her momentum to keep herself upright. Yet Theo kept skating backward so she’d have to go farther to get to him. 

 

He must have done it for twenty feet before she got irritated with the way she was hobbling on the ice,and with Astoria’s howling laugh that echoed in the room, Hermione was now glaring at Theo. Gritting her teeth, she took off, smirking at the surprised look on his face. 

 

Her issue was that she couldn’t stop, and he had to catch her when she slammed into him. Theo gripped her shoulders, swaying as he straightened her. “Good -” 

 

“I did it!” She squealed, a sound that was far higher than she had ever sounded, and she was positively beaming. Pleased with herself, Hermione tested sliding backwards. “Okay, I’m not as good at that.” She winced when she fell backward. 

 

She wasn’t paying attention to anything beyond  _ not  _ falling. So she didn’t notice Theo staring over the top of her head, or the withering glare Malfoy had cast their way. Nor did she notice the worried look on Pansy’s face, and when Hermione looked back, she would realize - 

 

This was the moment. 

 

Theo caught her by the crook of her elbow, a broad smile on his face. “Don’t lose your balance.” He whispered in her ear, and spun her, his palm landing against her waist to steady her. 

 

Determined to be as good as anyone else, she glanced at Luna once more, and attempted to spin on her own, something that had Theo scrambling to catch her before she fell. 

 

“Just let me do it.” He said, laughing, twirling her, and it was mid turn. 

 

Mid turn that someone’s arm slid around her waist effortlessly, and she was swept away from Theo and into the middle of the ice skating rink. 

 

“What-?” Hermione looked up, and at first all she saw was the blur of blond hair, but then she was spinning, and being led around the rink. 

 

Malfoy’s fingers were cold, a rosy tint having colored his cheeks, and he spun her again. “I needed an excuse to get away from Astoria,” Draco murmured, this time spinning with her, and Hermione found herself flattened against him. 

 

Swallowing roughly while looking at their skates so he wouldn’t see, Hermione nodded. “Okay. Well, it was a bit rude to rip me away from Theo, don’t you think?” 

 

“Nah.” Draco smirked. “I’m a much better ice skater than he is.” 

 

“Right, because Malfoys are great at everything. Regardless, you’ll make her think we’re dating.” Hermione laughed, letting go of him. 

 

“Hermione!” Pansy called out, coming up to her side. “I’m going to the loo. Mind coming with me?” she asked, her eyes flicking from Hermione to Draco. 

 

She shook her head as she slid her hand into Pansy’s. As they neared the edge, out of earshot of everyone, Hermione murmured, “I didn’t imagine that, did I?” 

 

Pansy slowly shook her head, her eyes widening. “You definitely did not.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m finally amping up to one of the big things, and I am equal parts nervous and excited. Let me know what you think of this chapter, and what you think is going to happen in the upcoming ones! Crazy to think we still have sixteen chapters left, and so much is yet to come.


	11. Bucket List # 14 - Abbey Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Wow, only a week between updates, AND I have the next already written. And half of the next. Wanderlust hit 200 reviews this morning, which I never expected to happen. :) I hope that you will enjoy this next installment.

She was upset as the holidays grew closer, especially Thanksgiving, which had been her mother's favorite. And even though Malfoy's jab over breakfast of how Great Britain should celebrate getting rid of the colonials - a joke that probably would have made her laugh on a regular basis, but not now - Hermione sat cross legged at the foot of her bed.

Realistically, it had only been a few days - okay, a week - since her breakdown in the kitchen with Narcissa. The holidays were a sore spot, she knew it had been coming, and she was counting on her friends to get her through it. Her friends - something that had been a rare species at home - and her new-found family.

But it wasn't her mother, and no matter how grand the Malfoy tradition of traveling was, it wasn't staying up all night to read a book while she was tucked into her mother's side. She was an adult, and she'd been a miniature version of one since her father was killed in action, but for every Christmas since, the Grangers had a tradition.

On Christmas Eve, she and her mother would exchange a box. In it would be a pair of pajamas, and a book. The same book usually, because her mother always peeked, and even though they compared books all throughout the year, she didn't think Christmas should be any different. Picking at the stray strand of the bottoms she wore, she could feel her eyes burning. Wearing the same pair as the ones she'd received the year previous just because it felt like the right thing to do, Hermione wanted to throw the lamp at the wall.

Violence wasn't the answer, but she imagined it would make her feel a hell of a lot better. Running her fingers along the soft material, and hanging her head, she tried to tell herself that it would be okay.

Hermione leaned back to grab the book on her nightstand, and she turned the light off since early, lazy sunlight poured in through the curtains. The notes from her parents didn't make her feel better, and she hadn't expected them to.

She wasn't a religious person, a small thing about her that was hardly heard of in the conservative part of the country she'd been raised in. Despite that, she had always chosen to believe her parents were together, somewhere in the universe. As they had been religious, and Hermione had attended services beside her mother all the way until she died.

The downside of being thousands of miles away was that she couldn't visit the cemetary, couldn't sit at the headstone until her eyes were swollen from crying, and -

Hermione tossed the book behind her, lacing her fingers together as she sighed.

It was a Saturday morning, and Pansy would be over within the hour. Luna and Ginny would be with her, filling the normally silent halls of the manor with laugher, and lively conversation. Such a thing usually made her happy, but Hermione could only think of the words she'd shared with Pansy in the bathroom of the ice skating rink.

No matter how many times she told herself it probably didn't mean anything, and that was fine, Pansy was the first to point out that she was wrong. Malfoy would never do things like that, he never had, her best friend claimed.

" _I mean, literally sweeping you away from Theo, Hermione? You'd have to be blind to think it doesn't mean anything." Pansy hissed, flipping the lock of the bathroom into place._

_Hermione rubbed her temples, the ground seeming to sway at her feet. "What do you expect me to do? Should I corner Malfoy and ask him what he's playing at?"_

_Pansy snorted. "Oh, I absolutely would not do that," she replied. "That was a show, I think , but I've never seen him in a real relationship. It's just that...well, I don't want it to upset you."_

_Her eyes narrowing, Hermione knew that nothing good could be about to come from Pansy's mouth. "I'd rather know than not," she mumbled, looking over in the mirror. "Spit it out, Parkinson."_

" _Theo and Draco have fought over a girl before," Pansy blurted. "I don't know what it was about, Hermione. I really don't. Draco isn't open about this kind of thing, and I hardly knew him then. I'd only just started dating Harry."_

" _You think this is some kind of conquest for him?" Hermione asked, her mind reeling, and her heart - whether she liked it or not - ached at that statement. "Pansy, I'll smack him with my ice skates if that's the case."_

" _And cut up his pretty face?" Pansy teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "I don't think that's what it is, but who am I to say? He's been less harsh since you showed up. Who am I to say he's not serious now?"_

_Hermione scoffed, shaking her head. "No. Did you see Astoria? I can't believe that he would be interested in me in any capacity, and I won't let that in my head so I can get my hopes up either. Maybe we get along for sarcasm, and occasionally we bicker because it's fun, but it's nothing more."_

_Pansy put her hands up. "I understand. I have to ask though, do you feel anything for either of them? Or both of them? Do not give me that look; stranger things have happened."_

She didn't like admitting that of both of the two men who had been twirling her about, which she felt rather foolish about now, it was the one who was a prick the majority of the time that caught her attention. Malfoy was the personification of the stereotype for rebellious, attractive teenagers that grew into even hotter men.

And he irritated her for it. Sometimes he laughed, sometimes he smiled at her, and it set her heart out of rhythm. For no other reason than he possessed devilishly good genes. Not that she could fault Lucius or Narcissa for being attractive.

And there were other times that he softened toward her, like the night in the Shrieking Shack, and she'd woken to find him beside her bed. Or he took her for a tattoo. And truthfully, the good things outweighed the bad. Yet if he was competing with Theo for the sake of a competition, all the memories of the time she spent around him left a bad taste in her mouth.

Shoving her thoughts to the side, she elected to leave it for yet another time, but she truly had no plans of revisiting the train of thought if she had a choice.

* * *

Hermione sat on the steps of the porch in front of Malfoy Manor, her legs crossed at her ankles while she held her hand out to catch cold rain in her hands. The sky was overcast, with more and more clouds rolling in, and there was frequent thunder cracking across the sky.

It was another night she couldn't sleep, and it seemed they weren't slowing down anytime soon. Swallowing, she pulled the plush blanket tighter around her as she hummed to herself. As it was, it was well into the witching hour in the middle of the night, everyone she knew asleep, or she supposed her few friends in America were just starting their day - not that she could have been interested in talking to them for comfort.

Pulling her hand back, she dried it against her blanket and returned to flipping through her textbook. Her mug sat beside her, steam drifting up from it, and the pleasant smell of coffee beans reaching her. Having done this every day that week, she knew she'd grow weary within the hour, but this time she might fall asleep on the porch. Narcissa would have her head if she caught a cold from sleeping outside.

The door creaked open behind her, heavy footfalls sounding as they came closer. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" Malfoy yawned, stretching his arms over his head.

"Yeah," she replied, licking her finger and changing the page. "I haven't been sleeping well this week. It's almost Thanksgiving." Hermione muttered, mostly to herself.

Malfoy sat beside her, crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest. "Thinking of your mum?" he asked quietly, peering over her shoulder as she read a chapter on the more frustrating parts of mathematics.

The memory came in flickers, and as she stared over the lawn and winding driveway, Hermione thought of her father swinging her around. The two of them were useless in a kitchen, Jean Granger said loudly and often.

Blinking away tears, she nodded. "It's harder than I thought it would be," Hermione admitted, turning her head, and her nose brushing his. Her eyes shot open, the previous memories vanishing in an instant when she realized how close he was to her. "Fuck, you were too close." She scooted away from him, laughing to herself.

"It's the first time you've had a holiday without her," he murmured.

Lightening cracked, lighting up the dark sky, and she stared up in wonder as the world slowly fell back into darkness. "Yeah," she agreed, hardly listening to him at all as she snapped the book shut. "This was her favorite time of the year. I never liked it much, but she made it better." Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know how I feel right now."

Malfoy said nothing, but he reached over to take her hand. Sitting in the silence, she focused on the slow, rhythmic feeling of his thumb stroking her knuckles. And she wondered what her mother would have thought of the man beside her.

* * *

"Unless you're planning to make your feelings known, you should back off," Ginny said quietly as they stood off to the side in the quad. Gnawing her bottom lip, she returned his glare. "Please don't look at me like that, Draco."

Malfoy shoved his hands into his pocket, looking once more toward the subject of the conversation. "There's nothing to tell," he muttered, leaning against the wall, and kicking his boot up against it. "She's a friend, sometimes." He tacked the last bit on at the end, and ignored her laughter.

"She's goddamned brilliant, and if you think she doesn't realize something is going on, you're even more conceited than I ever imagined." Ginny shot back, pinching his side. "She knows that you and Theo have had arguments in the past when it came to the opposite sex."

His stomach twisted. "What?" His smirk slipped from his face, a bewildered expression taking its place. "Why would you tell her that?"

Ginny shook her head. "I didn't, but Pansy did. And before you snap at her, Draco, I would have done the same thing. It's not right for you to disregard your friendship with Theo over this. Unless this is more serious than even you are willing to admit."

Malfoy swallowed harshly, tearing his eyes away from Granger. "I'm not having this discussion here, not where she or anyone else could hear me," he bit out, but there was hesitation in his eyes. "I may have underestimated how much I cared."

Ginny's eyes widened, with a subtle nod, she let the conversation go. "Later then," she agreed, following his line of sight.

Hermione Granger was the only thing capturing his attention.

* * *

Pansy sat across from her, her legs crossed, and the grass beginning to stain her jeans. Not that she minded as she popped a strawberry into her mouth and bit into it. Class was due to start in fifteen minutes, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to move at all.

"When did you last sleep?" Pansy asked, passing her a strawberry, and laying back in the grass. "Mum has some sleep medication if you think it would help you. You can't keep doing this, Hermione. You'll make yourself sick."

Averting her eyes, Hermione didn't so much as shake her head. Of course her friend was right - four hours a night made it feel like she was running on fumes, and she was teetering on the edge of exhaustion. "It just makes for more time to study." Hermione shrugged, dipping the piece of fruit in yogurt before licking it off.

Pansy glared at her, shooting her an obscene gesture. "You need to sleep."

She was silent, avoiding the conversation that Pansy had tried to bring up all week. "I can't." Hermione replied, her gaze sweeping out over the open lawn. "Whenever I lay down to sleep, my brain won't stop."

"Does it ever?" Pansy joked, but clamped her mouth shut at the serious look on Hermione's face. "Talk to me about it then?" she asked quietly. "Are you thinking of your mum?"

Hermione nodded, picking at the grass. "It's hard not to. It's just the time of year; she would be shopping for food for Thanksgiving, and it was...it was her favorite. Whenever I've slept, I've dreamt of her. Maybe it's because it's the last thing I think of before I go to sleep, but waking up to remember that it will never happen again crushes me." The wind blew her hair to the side, not creating an attractive windswept look, but rather causing her hair to end up in her mouth. "Off topic, but what do you think they're talking about?" She nodded her head toward Draco, and Ginny. "Whatever it is, he doesn't look pleased."

Pansy sighed. "Honestly?"

"Would I ask you if I didn't want to know?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I would bet everything I own they're talking about you."

A strangled sound escaped Hermione. "What?" She choked on a piece of strawberry, swallowing hard to get it down. "That's absurd."

"Is it?" her friend asked quietly. "Has it come up between the two of you - him literally sweeping you off your feet? Or the time he  _hugged_  you?"

Hermione laughed. "Let that go, it was nothing."

"It was bloody well something," Pansy argued, folding her arms. "He doesn't just hug people. Have you even met the man?" She grinned. "He never corrected Slughorn to say you weren't attending the Slug Club party."

"He likes to give me a hard time." Hermione waved her off, reaching for another piece of fruit. "I don't want to waste time with the thought there could be anything there. It would build my hopes up, and that would just be a waste of time."

Pansy stretched out as she laid down, crossing her legs at her ankles while she relaxed in the grass. "Or he thought it would get back to Theo, and he'd back off." She finally said.

As badly as Hermione wanted to deny it, she agreed there were too many coincidences to believe that. "I won't talk to Malfoy about this." She hedged, picking at the underside of her already ragged nails. "I won't just ask him if he's interested in me because I'm not so convinced this is reality."

"But?" Pansy prompted her.

"What would you think if I talked to Theo? They haven't been getting along, and I ask why that is." Hermione suggested.

Pansy's eyebrows drew together as she weighed the options. "What would you say if he told you it was because of you? Unless you want to have that conversation, I would wait until you are."

Hermione hated to admit she was right, but she was, and the absolute last thing she felt like doing was starting an awkward conversation with Theo. Not when she was certain it led to him admitting his less than platonic feelings, and she didn't want to say she wasn't interested. "Right." She nodded. "What are you doing this weekend?" Sshe asked, looking to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Harry and I are going to London to do some Christmas shopping. I think you should come." She bit her lip. "And I think you should bring Malfoy with you. Just so I can watch how he acts around you."

Hermione groaned. Everything always came back to him lately.

* * *

When she woke, breathing heavy, and her hair sticking to her forehead from sweat, she'd sensed the night was only going downhill from there. At her bedside, she glanced at the clock to see it was only two thirty; flinging the covers off of her, and pacing the bedroom, Hermione chewed her nails.

The were merely nubs by now after the week it had been. Between exams swiftly approaching and wondering if two men that were far too attractive for their own good were fighting over her, she was exhausted.

The horrific image in the mirror across from her revealed the dark circles below her eyes, and the bloodshot look to them as well.

The nightmare.

Hermione didn't care to think of the last time she'd dreamed of her father's death, but she knew it immediately anyway. The holidays, with their bright colors of green and scarlett never failed to make her think of how the world wasn't fair to those who deserved it, and the it kept spinning no matter what happened.

The floor swayed beneath her feet, and the Earth seemed to slow down despite her knowing that it wasn't possible. She tasted metallic exploding over the surface of her tongue as she lost her balance, and her hips slammed into the brass knob of her dresser. With a loud sound, the mirror knocked against the piece of furniture as Hermione slumped against it.

Malfoy didn't bother to knock as he stormed into her bedroom, throwing the door open so hard she wouldn't be surprised if there was a hole in the drywall. "What was that?" he asked her, shutting the door, the lock clicking as it was flipped into place, and he rushed to her side.

She hung her head, her hair falling into place like an unmatted curtain, and she made a low, pitiful sound. "I'm sorry if I woke you," Hermione murmured, knowing the moment she opened her mouth it would be a mistake.

"It's okay," he replied, his voice soft as he sat beside her. The silence was heavy around them; his knee touched hers, a splash of warmth in the room even though she felt like she was freezing.

"You don't need to stay here."

"I'd rather stay."

She nodded, bringing her knees to her chest, and resting her chin on her kneecaps. "Did I wake you?"

He shook his head, fidgeting with his hands. "I was reviewing something for my father. I heard you wake up - you shouted, but I assumed you'd rather be left alone."

Hermione looked over at him, at the way one of his hands was curled into a fist, and she imagined if she peered directly at him she would see his clenched jaw. "I fell. I don't know how; I was thinking of my dad, and then I was dizzy."

"Did you have a nightmare?" Draco asked.

She hiccuped, wiping her eyes. "It's the holidays."

"Ah," he breathed, "I can see how -"

"He was killed in the Middle East when I was a child, blown up by a bomb, and I had a nightmare of what his final moments must have been like," Hermione blurted, lifting her head to look at him directly.

His eyes widened at her words, and of course he'd already known of her parents, of how they had left her involuntarily, but this - "I'm so fucking sorry," he rasped.

She smiled weakly, looking down again. "I love your family, please know that I do, but they aren't my family." Hermione bit her lip as tears stung her eyes. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I've never been without her. I want to eat dinner with her on Thanksgiving, and I want to spend Christmas Eve with her one last time. I wasn't ready for her to go."

He swallowed, and nodded. "I understand. I would never think of you as ungrateful."

Tentatively, Hermione rested her head on his shoulder. "I think I'll go downstairs, make some coffee. It will be hours before I can sleep again." As she moved to climb to her feet, he gripped her shoulder.

"Just sit on the bed, Granger. I can work your coffee machine."

"Are you sure?"

His only reply was to glare at her before he left the room. Hermione pulled open the closet door, shrugging out of her camisole, and sliding an oversized sweater over her torso. Not willing to wear a bra - they were so uncomfortable - she settled for something that wouldn't make it so obvious.

Hermione climbed onto the bed, crossing her legs, and hugging a pillow close to her chest. The moon was bright outside, the light tricking in through the sheer curtains, and she turned her hand over to look at her nails. Chewed down, and one bleeding; she hid it as Malfoy came back into the room.

Only he held two mugs, one he gave to her before sitting at the foot of her bed. "Do you mind if I stay?"

"No," she replied, setting the steaming ceramic mug on the table. "Why were you awake?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling harshly. "Nothing really. It's all boring and time consuming, but I was reviewing Theo's notes from Slughorn's. Being gone so much hasn't helped with my course load."

"I thought you weren't speaking to Theo?" she asked, masking her face in what she hoped was harmless curiosity. "If I overstepped -"

His nostrils flared. "What would make you think we weren't?"

She shrugged, running through the viable responses in her head. "I'm not blind." Hermione told him, arching an eyebrow. "You've hardly spoken with him since I've arrived, and I've been led to believe the pair of you were close friends. As close as you are with Ginny, but you never slept with him."

He snorted. "There's nothing to tell you. We had a disagreement, but it's better off between us. Not to mention I don't have to speak with him for him to email me lecture notes."

A smile spread across her face. "Well, if there is a next time you can borrow mine. My notes are better than his; we've discussed that."

The corner of his lip twitched. "What was your mum like?" He'd turned toward her, kicking his slippers off as he crossed his legs on the bed. Sipping on what she imagined was his precious Earl Grey, she thought for a moment before she answered.

"She would have liked you," she said finally.

"Oh? Why do you think that?"

"You're accomplished - well read, well educated, well mannered - most of the time anyway." She giggled. "I'm positive she would have liked your tattoos; she was always open minded."

"I like her more than my mum already," he said dryly. "She always threatens to hit me over the head and drag me in for laser removal."

Hermione tapped her fingers against her chin. "I think she would have found you charming, whereas I think you're irritating."

"Charming?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you've noticed how smooth you can be." Hermione smirked. "If she were alive, she would have thanked you for what you did with Adrian."

Draco nodded. "He's a prick. Do you think you're much like your mum?"

"Definitely not." She sniggered, grinning at him. "She said I was more like my dad, and I agree with her."

He cocked his head to the side, blond strands falling in his eyes. "Why is that?"

Hermione cleared her throat, the cup to her right long forgotten as she imitated her mother. "Headstrong, rash, stupidly brave - that was more for him though than me-" she began to tick them off on her fingers.

Until he cut in anyway. "No, you're definitely that last one," Draco said, shaking his head. "Your first day I was on the receiving end of a crash course in your plight to do the right thing, always."

"Fine," Hermione conceded. "He cared about others more than himself, something I like to think we share because he was the best man I ever knew. And he was brilliant, and I don't think he ever should have been so far away from home." She wiped her eyes again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Draco said roughly. "Not for this. You can cry whenever you want, Granger. Why did he join the military? If that's out of bounds, I will understand, but the limits aren't clear here."

"He wanted to help," she said simply, waving a hand. "He felt it was his duty, and my mother supported him, and then when he bought me that book -" she nodded toward the nightstand, "- it was the last thing we ever did together. I admire him, then and now."

He smirked, pulling at a stray strand in the comforter. "Your mum was right. You  _are_  a carbon copy of your father. I had never thought rash was a good quality, but I was wrong."

"I shouldn't get used to hearing that phrase, should I?" she teased. "You don't mind if I talk about them? Like I said, you don't have to stay." Halfway hoping he would leave so her heart would stop pounding, and halfway hoping he would sit directly beside her once more, Hermione waited for him to leave.

Instead he laid across the bottom of her bed. "I'd rather stay. Tell me whatever you like, whatever helps you, I'm all you've got for the moment."

Hermione snatched the book from the table, and slid the folded piece of paper from the back of it. She slid it across the bed, the frayed edge getting snagged on the bed as she did so. "I made a bucket list with my mum before she died. It's a work in progress, but I thought I would share it with you since technically you've marked off some of the items."

He flipped the paper open, but with him holding it in front of his face, she couldn't see his eyes narrow and darken. "This is a long list."

She nodded. "Well, it's just a bucket list before I die, not before I leave England next year. I think about it nearly every second of everyday. It's the last thing we did, so it's like betraying her memory if I don't give it my all."

Draco hummed, sliding the paper back to her. "The Abbey Road one, did you go on your birthday?" he asked her, eye flicking from where her shorts had rode up, to her face. "Theo didn't take you?"

"Honestly, I hadn't even thought of that." She laughed low under her breath. "Maybe someday -"

"Maybe tomorrow?" he asked her suddenly. Draco looked as if he'd never meant to say it, but it was out now. "You were going with Pansy tomorrow, and Harry mentioned it to me at the Leaky earlier."

"You're coming too?"

"Unless it's a problem -"

She shook her head quickly. "Not at all, I'd love for you to come. Not just because I'd need a fourth person, but -"

"I'm sure we could arrange to leave earlier," Draco said, a rare smile crossing his face.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "Do you think we'll ever stop interrupting each other mid sentence?"

He breathed, "I hope not. It certainly keeps things interesting."

She told him of her childhood, even though she didn't think there was much to tell. Hermione skimmed over the less than stellar parts, including the majority of her school career. As someone who'd never been well-liked, it was a semi-pathetic tale, and not one that needed repeating.

He told her how more than once his mother had embarrassed him. From sending him extravagant presents at school for Valentine's Day, all the way up until the was into university, he added. Or to successfully frightening any girl he ever dated she didn't like.

Hermione laughed until her stomach hurt, and smiled until she was sure her cheeks would be sore as he detailed his childhood in the manor. He'd fashioned a small mattress from a guest room, and the stairs as a slide at the age of seven. After breaking his arm in three places, and shattering a vase that was worth more than she believed a vase could be worth, his mother had done little more than tell Lucius to give him a high five for sticking the landing.

"She's amazing." Hermione beamed, peering out the window at the sunlight began to trickle through. "Oh, my God - have we talked all night?" She laughed. "If you really plan to go to London today, we'll be exhausted."

He waved her off. "Potter can drive. We'll sleep in the back seat." He moved off of the bed to get dressed, or so she presumed.

"Draco?" she called, lacing her fingers together. "Thanks for tonight, or last night. It meant the world to me."

He smirked as he gave a nod. "Knock on my door next time; you don't have to fall down to get my attention."

* * *

He'd called Pansy when her boyfriend didn't answer. "Hello?" she answered, her voice heavy with sleep. "It's -" her voice broke off, coming back even louder this time"- it's six in the morning! Why are you calling me?" Pansy shouted into the speaker.

Malfoy chuckled. "Potter didn't answer so I had no other choice. Am I correct in assuming you know about Granger's list?" He tiptoed the subject, guilt already pooling in his stomach. He wasn't supposed to know, Draco reminded himself.

"The bucket list? Yeah, what about it?"

"She told me about it." Draco said, flipping through his closet for a jumper.

Her sharp intake of breath was loud through the receiver. "Why did she tell you?"

Not that the girl could see it, but he froze. She was suspicious of him. "She was up the entire night crying. I was with her, she mentioned it." Draco bit out, but he didn't have a reason to be so defensive. Not when Pansy was right, and he'd had something up his sleeve all along. "There's an item on that list to recreate the album cover of Abbey Road."

"And you want to leave earlier so we can do that? For God's sake, Draco. We would have time even if we left at noon." She muttered, rustling in the background. "Is she okay?"

Draco pulled a black jumper from the closet. "She hasn't slept all week. I caught her outside a few days ago at three in the morning. This morning I could hear her crying, and she says she lost her balance, but she fell. It sounded like the vanity toppled over."

"You really want to leave now?" In the background, there was a muffled, "Harry, wake up, we're leaving."

"Yeah. She'll sleep on the way."

"And you?"

"I'll drive. I'd rather be able to smoke," he said, starting to hang up.

"Draco!" Pansy called out, her voice sharp.

He raised the phone to his ear again. "What?"

"Harry says if we leave at noon, we can catch the photo after it snows. The street is probably full of slush right now. Why don't you two get some sleep, and we'll leave at noon as planned? You can still drive."

Malfoy sighed, wanting to go  _now_  for no other reasons than purely selfish ones. The sooner they left, the sooner he saw her face light up. "Yeah, that sounds like the best plan," he agreed, setting his phone on the dresser.

As he went to tell her they wouldn't be leaving yet, he found Granger already asleep. She was lying with her arm hanging off the bed, her phone lit up beside her face. Draco chuckled, pulling the blanket over her frame. Her sweater was slipping off her shoulder already. As he covered her, she mewled and snuggled into the warmth.

Her text messages weren't his business, and he  _didn't_ snoop. It wasn't his fault that it was open. And well.

_Pansy: He stayed up all night?_

_Hermione: ….yeah._

_Pansy: HERMIONE._

_Hermione: We're friends, and only sometimes at that. Nothing has changed._

_Pansy: Oh, I think it's clear something has._

* * *

Hermione sat on the porch, a new mug in hand since she'd neglected the first. Dressed in the same cashmere sweater she'd worn all night - this time with a bra, of course -, and her most comfortable jeans, she waited for Malfoy. Biding her time by knocking her converse together, she sipped her coffee and watched two birds flitting about.

She ignored the cell phone vibrating in her back pocket.

She wasn't ready to give the night any traction, or to discuss it with Pansy. It would only lead to theories of how much he fancied her, and Pansy was a fan of that topic. So instead, she gripped her travel mug with both hands so as to keep her hands warm. In her purse at her side, she'd only brought a few things, the book, the list, her wallet - naturally, and a notebook.

There was something romantic about traveling, of last minute plans to visit a city that she'd once only imagined. As ungrateful as she felt, there was something to be said about her life: that she was lucky, and she ought to not take it for granted.

The door swung open behind her, silent, and his fingers brushed against the top of her hair. "Are you ready to go?" Malfoy's jumper clung to him in a way that simply wasn't fair. Neither was the leather jacket he wore over it.

_Of all the fucking stereotypes._

She nodded, taking his hand to stand. "Are you sure you can drive? You haven't slept much -"

He smirked. "I'm driving to London, Granger. I'm fine."

She trailed after him, her mouth falling open as she made her way to the passenger side. "Why wouldn't we just take a train?" Hermione slid into the car, putting her purse at her feet, and her mug in the cup holder as she pulled the strap across her chest.

Malfoy lit a cigarette, rolling down his window slightly. "This is why. They won't let me smoke on a train."

She snorted. "You would probably try to anyway." Hermione nestled into the seat, enjoying the silence that would be shattered the second Pansy and Harry got in the car.

She was right.

* * *

If she had to choose a favorite person in their friend group that wasn't any of the females, she would have chosen Harry every time. Funny and sarcastic, he kept her laughing.

"So, Abbey Road then?" Harry said from the backseat. "I didn't know you were a Beatles fan."

She shook her head. Hermione peeled the wrapper of her breakfast bar open, ripping it and sending crumbs flying all over Draco. Smiling sheepishly, she set the wrapper in the cup holder. "My mum was a huge fan. She wanted to do it, but for obvious reasons she couldn't."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. You'll get a great picture since it's snowing."

Even though London was the same as last time, the same tight streets, and the feeling of infinity it gave her - she was just as in awe as the first time. She was the first out of the car as they parked close to a bookstore. Grabbing Pansy's hand, they left the others in the proverbial dust as Hermione dragged Pansy inside.

It was in the shelves that Pansy brought it up. "Last night?"

Hermione glared. "This isn't the time. He'll be in here any second."

"You never replied to my text message, and you wouldn't have answered me in the car. Unless you want him to know -"

Hermione cut her off, flicking her in the nose. "Get that dumb smirk off your face, Parkinson. He was kind to me, that's all I have to say." Turning to the bookshelf, but then turning back, she muttered, "I asked him about Theo."

Pansy dropped the book she was holding. It must have been the heaviest fucking tome in the entire shop, and if that hadn't grabbed attention, her shriek would have. Pansy left the book in the floor, seizing her by her arm before dragging her away. "You could have started with that." She hissed. "What did he say?"

"Hardly anything. He told me they had a disagreement, and it was better off between them."

Pansy's eyes widened. "He didn't tell you what the disagreement was?"

Hermione shook her head. "That's the only thing worth telling you -"

"Oh, no," Pansy argued, "you'll definitely tell me everything, but later." She moved away, making her way back down the aisle. "What are you getting me for Christmas?" she called over her shoulder.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked, already knowing she'd ordered a new pair of boots that were wrapped in the bottom of Narcissa's closet. Pansy liked to snoop.

* * *

Hermione bought Lucius a new decanter from a shop that she didn't even want to walk through. Nearly every product was glass, and she feared her bag would cause a shelf to topple over, so she'd taken to hugging it to her chest instead. Packed away carefully in two boxes was the decanter, and a set of wine glasses she'd bought for Narcissa.

Settled at the counter the salesperson asked if she would like to add a card to both gifts. Taking the pen, she scribbled two notes. And considering what she wrote, Hermione wasn't at all surprised when her eyes filled with tears.

Malfoy stood behind her while he peered over her shoulder. "You'll make them cry," he murmured.

A weak smile graced her lips as she turned to face him. "I guess that makes two, three of us." Hermione laughed, wiping her eyes. "This week has gone on forever."

"Seven days, the same length as any other." He mused.

Hermione thumped him on the back of the head.

* * *

Several hours later, Hermione was certain she'd crossed everyone off her list. Her host parents were done, though she'd buy some little things here and there. Pansy's present was at home. Harry would get a gift card to a shop that sold various sports gear, but mostly rugby. Luna, and Ginny's gifts would be delivered just before the holiday, and she hadn't decided what to buy for Theo. Considering he'd only known her for a short time before her birthday, she thought it was fair.

Until Malfoy asked her what she would like for Christmas, and she balked. It hadn't crossed her mind to give him a gift at all. With a quiet, "There's nothing I need," Hermione fell into step alongside him as they followed their friends down the street.

He rolled his eyes. "Is there anything you want? No mugs. You have too many as it is."

Hermione snorted. "I don't know - what do you want for Christmas?"

"You're not turning this around on me," he muttered. "And don't tell me you want a gift card either."

"Gift cards are useful."

"They're impersonal," he replied. "New gloves," Draco told her. "Mine are years old, nearly falling apart. That's what I want."

"You want me to buy you something you would have bought anyway. And you say I'm impersonal?" Hermione scoffed. "I'll think of something."

Pansy stood with Harry, holding his hand as they waited at the famous crosswalk. "It's terribly busy," Pansy told them. "It's a holiday, though."

Draco nodded, muttering in Hermione's ear to stay with the others. And she watch as he approached the different individuals who were blocking the street. "Is he-?" Hermione broke off, her lips curving into a wide smile. "Oh my God, he's bribing them to move." She shook with laughter.

Malfoy smirked as he came back to them, another girl behind him holding his phone. "We can take a picture now."

Hermione was the first one into the street, spinning around, and narrowly avoiding a patch of ice. "How long will they stay out of the way?"

"For as long as we're here," he replied.

The picture itself was a quick thing, the easy part so to say, but she had to admit the journey over the course of the day was the best part. With Malfoy standing behind her, and her head tipped back in a laugh. With Pansy and Harry right behind them, both smiling so wide she thought their faces might crack.

As the girl handed Malfoy's phone back to him, Hermione was still standing in the middle of the crosswalk. "Draco?" she called. Hermione almost lost her nerve when he turned to look at her. There was no justifying asking for him to take a picture with her beyond the fact that she wanted it. "Will you please take a picture with me?"

"Of you?" he asked, sure he'd heard wrong.

His brow furrowed in confusion, Hermione giggled. "No, with me. Right here," she replied. He stepped up to her side, and she slid closer to him to get a better picture. "Fuck, I can't get a good angle. Do you  _have_  to be so bloody tall?"

Draco plucked her phone from her hand, his arm sliding around her waist as he pulled her just a bit closer. He smirked at her squeak, murmuring for her to smile before taking the photo.

And even when he stepped away, she was still warm. The weight of his arm, and the curve of his body still fresh in her mind. "Thank you," she whispered. The photo was a nice one, with the snowy background of London, of the crosswalk that would always remind her of this day. But she would be lying if she said her attention wasn't on the man in the photo.

"You should send me that picture," Malfoy said, nodding toward the others. "We should go. It's a long drive home." He walked away from her, almost grabbing her wrist, or maybe even her hand, but he settled for something smaller instead.

As his finger brushed against the inside of her wrist, Hermione found that she was left wondering if every touch from him would feel like this. Warm, electric even, as if she was anticipating something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the slow burns slightly heats up. I wonder what will happen to our two favorites next?


	12. Mistletoe, Angst, and a Proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note at the bottom so I don't give anything away before you get to it. I wasn't going to update so soon, but here I am.

_Mistletoe, Angst, and a Proposition_

 

Narcissa tipped her head back in laughter as Lucius danced with her, overstepping a stray box of Christmas ornaments while he picked up his frail wife.

Full of life and sass, frail was a word Hermione refused to associate with Narcissa. Especially now as she swatted her husband's chest as he steered her around the foyer.

Hermione sat on the floor, Crookshanks at her feet while she lifted tinsel from the boxes. "You must have enough for three Christmas trees, Malfoy. Are there more trees than I know about?"

He chuckled, leaning over to hang a scarlet ornament in her hair, the fishtail hook snagging on one of her curls. "Afraid not, Granger. Mum likes to keep a variety. She feels like a traditional red and green this year is the way to go."

Leaving the shatterproof ornament in her hair, Hermione shook her head. "And surely that has nothing to do with the fact I told her we always used the same color scheme?"

"Sneaky one, my mother," he murmured, yanking the rest of the garland from the box. Loose glitter flew all over them, bits of silver sticking in her hair, and dark toned greens standing out from his. "Sorry," Malfoy muttered though the corner of his mouth quirked up.

"Dragon!" Narcissa yelled from clear across the room, once again being dipped by Lucius. There was a now empty wine glass on the table behind her, and her cheeks were filled with color. "Dragon!" She snapped, this time with more force.

Over Hermione's giggle, he glared over his shoulder. "What?"

"Grab Hermione and dance with us," his mother urged him, and Hermione's stomach dropped.

"Oh, I'd really rather not," Hermione defended, holding her hands out in front of her, though she was still entrapped by garland and glitter. Crooks had tangled himself in a bit of the Christmas lights. "I can't dance."

From Lucius's smirk, he knew exactly what was about to come out of his wife's mouth. "Nonsense, Draco can lead you. If he can teach that God awful Greengrass tart how to dance with her two left, clubfeet -"

" _Mother!_ " Draco roared with laughter, his hair falling into his face while he laid back in the floor. "Tori wasn't that bad."

"Astoria?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow. "I thought you loathed her."

"I do, but -"

His mother cut him off while being spun by Lucius. Hermione was certain Narcissa was the one leading them now, and he was only along for the ride. "He went on a date with that little trollop. And she  _is_  a trollop, Draco Lucius Malfoy, which is the exact reason you ever fancied her!"

"Perhaps fancied is too strong of a word," Lucius said dryly. "Though, Hermione, it was an awful sight to see, her dancing."

She laughed. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad would you say she was?"

"I'd say she knocked over a candle and set the drapes on fire," Narcissa said.

"An easy eleven," Lucius replied at the same time. "Draco, Hermione, would you just dance to appease her?"

She glanced at Draco. "I really can't dance. Astoria might have been better."

Draco snorted, climbing to his feet. "I doubt anyone could be worse than her, Granger. It's easy."

Hermione sighed, taking his extended hand. Pulled to her feet, her gaze dropped once more to her cat to see he had freed himself from the clutches of lights, and was moving onto the cave of ornaments - the seemingly bottomless box. "What do I do? Just hold on?"

Between the mirth in his eyes, and the barely-there smile, she found she couldn't breathe as he took her hand, and set the other on his shoulder. Hermione didn't make eye contact, choosing instead to keep her head down. Though Narcissa sent a saucy wink her way before laying her head on her husband's chest.

Draco's chest was broader than she expected, which was silly considering she'd seen him naked before. His arms were wrapped around her waist, her head just barely meeting the top of his chest. His navy blue shirt was stretched across his chest, his joggers hanging low on his hips, and even looking so relaxed, he  _still_  commanded all of the power as he guided her.

She could never describe him as a soft, but on the first opportunity she stole a glance at him, he'd relaxed against her. His forearms no longer taut, and rigid as he held her. Draco's eyes had softened, and he smiled the tiniest bit at her.

Draco spun her, motioning to her to spin herself back into the crook of his arm. He was far too intoxicating for her to pay attention to anything else around her. Definitely not Narcissa flitting about, and rummaging in a box.

But at the woman's giggle, and a low chuckle behind her, Hermione looked up at what Draco was now staring at. Her cheeks heating up, she recognized the mistletoe, and she could safely say this was not a situation she'd ever been in. Her mouth dried. "Uh," she began, "Narcissa -"

"Just a peck," the woman insisted, her eyes mischievous.

"Mother," Draco stressed, tipping Hermione's head up by her chin, and kissing her softly on the forehead.

Blood rushed between her ears, and she swayed, but only slightly before she caught herself. And just as she was surely about to say something stupid, there was a loud meow from behind her, and the sound of the tree they'd just put together crashing to the floor. "Thank God for shatterproof ornaments, right?" Hermione muttered.

* * *

Hermione liked to think of Narcissa as her second mother, which at times made her feel guilty - as if she was forgetting her own mother. Yet watching her string lights, and swatting away anyone who came near the tree that guilt seemed to slowly ebb away.

In the moment, Hermione couldn't recall why she'd felt so down in the last few weeks. Her parents were gone - perhaps together, if she wanted to believe in that - but she was there. Even better she was with a family who went above and beyond what they signed up for. Sitting with her legs crossed on the sofa, she waited for Narcissa to come back from the kitchen.

With Draco at one side, and Lucius on the other she stared at the television as another Christmas movie appeared on the screen. Her lips twitching at the opening - wealthy business executive having his marriage proposal - one created out of convenience - shot down by a pretty blonde, she realized that it must be a story of how to not take what you have for granted.

"I love this one!" Narcissa beamed, padding across the floor with a tray with four mugs.

Recognizing her wanderlust mug, Hermione took the hot chocolate from the tray, and blew on the rim. The sweet smell wafted in the room, causing her smile to grow even wider. "Thank you," she mumbled, leaning forward as the man on screen was nearly run over by a snow plow, and at the very least had snow thrown all over him.

Dressed in matching pajamas, her host parents were quite the pair. Too drawn in by the movie, Hermione didn't move as the two men on either side of her moved to finish the tree.

Lucius held one end of the garland as his wife squeezed between the branches, and the wall, stringing it just perfectly, and just to her taste. "Hermione?" Lucius called. "Pause the movie, would you? We're about to light up the tree."

She nodded, springing for the remote before making her way to Draco's side. "It looks great." Hermione grinned, reaching out to touch one of the scarlet ornaments.

Draco snorted. "And your cat only tipped it over once."

She shrugged. "Crooks has never seen a Christmas tree before. He must have been curious," Hermione murmured. "Who normally puts the star on the top?" she asked quietly, watching the adults from the corner of her eye.

"Usually Mum, but she wants you to this year." Draco nudged her shoulder, a wry smirk twisting his lips.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Do you have a step ladder then? Because I'm fairly certain you bought the biggest tree in England," she muttered dryly. Hermione didn't notice when he stepped behind her, not until a star was thrust into her hands.

"Hold onto this. Don't drop it, Granger," Draco drawled from behind her, pushing his sleeves up his arms.

She turned to look behind her. "What?" Her accusatory tone broke off into a shriek as she was hoisted into the air. Both of his arms were snug around her hips, his hands pressed right to the middle of her belly. "Draco, put me down, and find a ladder for God's sakes!" She snapped, but her efforts were fruitless as he managed to set her on his shoulders.

Hermione's legs were flat against his chest, and she might have pulled his hair when she leaned too far backward.  _If he weren't so bloody tall, I wouldn't have to worry about falling,_  she thought to herself. And ripping at his hair again once more for good measure.

He hissed, his fingers wrapping around her thighs to steady her. "Stop yanking my hair. I've got a hold on you, just put the damned tree at the top."

She blinked, leaning forward, down really, to look him in the eye. Her hair falling forward, and still clutching the star, she smirked. "You mean to put the star at the top?" Hermione asked.

He glared at her, squeezing her legs roughly to earn a squeak. "You know exactly what I meant."

"Fine, fine," she mumbled. He walked her closer, and she leaned forward to place the star at the top. Straightening it first, and then leaning back to be sure it wasn't crooked, Hermione fluffed the branches before he sat her back on her feet. "You could have warned me," she muttered to him.

"It wouldn't have been as fun," Draco replied, taking her arm to pull her a step backward while his mother moved to turn the lights on.

Hermione snatched her mug from the table in front of the sofa before turning back to the tree.

Lucius flipped the lights off, and with a soft "One, two, three." Narcissa turned the Christmas lights on. "Oh," Narcissa breathed, "isn't that beautiful?" The woman turned to take her own hot chocolate from the mantle. "You might have to stay with us every Christmas, Hermione. We made quite a team for decorating." She winked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, grinning ear to ear as she tilted the mug to her lips. "If you say so, but you rearranged everything I did."

Narcissa waved her off, taking a long drink. "Technicalities, Hermione. You only need a gentle nudge in the right direction. Not to worry, you'll learn." She laughed. "What do you think, love? Isn't the tree gorgeous?"

Lucius hadn't looked at the tree once in fact. Rather his gaze was trained on his wife, and how the lights framed her body. "I'm sure it's delightful, sweetheart, but I see something even more stunning."

Sure her cheeks would hurt from grinning, Hermione elbowed Draco in the stomach. "Your parents are the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen."

"Charming," Draco replied, not fully smiling. "Does she look like she's shaking?" he suddenly asked, taking a swift step forward.

Hermione turned on her foot sharply, not seeing anything out of the ordinary at first. The man in front of her froze in step.

Narcissa was only whispering something in Lucius's ear, but she wasn't wobbling. Nor did she appear to have lost her balance at all. And Hermione hadn't been worried, she  _hadn't_ , until she heard her voice, weak with the words of "Love," her face tilting up, paler than Hermione had ever seen. "I think something is wrong."

Hermione didn't feel the heat of the scalding hot chocolate splash across her bare feet as her mug shattered against the linoleum. Frozen in place, and plagued by past events that seemed to be a constant fucking nightmare, she couldn't move. Not even as the woman toppled forward and Lucius was unable to catch her.

She stayed out of the way, frozen and helpless as she watched Lucius drop to her side. He carefully turned her over, and Hermione didn't notice his yelling at her. Trapped in place as her own panic scratched at her insides, she didn't come to her senses until Draco was right  _there_ , throttling her by her shoulders. "Call for help," he barked.

She nodded, fumbling for her cell phone. The emergency operator answered immediately, the line connecting and she could hear the feedback of her own desperate breathing. Unsure of when she'd began to cry, she launched into an explanation. "My mother =-" there was no time for fully thought out explanations, of how Narcissa wasn't her mother, but she would realize later that it could have been reliving the first even all over again - verbatim "- my mother collapsed, and she's not waking up!" Hermione gasped, her fingers trembling as she lifted her hand to her mouth.

"Is she breathing?" his reply was calm, crisp, and not at all warming.

"Yes," she responded, counting backward from ten. Once she reached zero, it was time to lock this away. Narcissa would be fine. She would be, she  _had_ to be. "We need an ambulance," Hermione told him, her voice scaling back from panic.

"Is your mother bleeding at all?" the operator asked, and could hear the clicking of a keyboard.

"No - wait, she's bleeding from the back of her head." Her breath lodged in her throat as Lucius carefully cradled the back of her skull, his fingers coming away stained with red. "She hit her head at the base of the fireplace. Have you dispatched?" Crossing her leg over the other, she waited for a confirmation.

Only it didn't matter in the end as Lucius refused to take the risk of waiting. Wrapping a blanket around his wife, he scooped her into his arms and rushed for the garage. "Drive separately!" he shouted to Draco. "I'm taking her to St. Mungo's."

"Ma'am, please wait -" the operator began in her ear, but Draco took the phone and ended the call.

"Grab your shoes, and whatever you need as fast as possible. There's no way of knowing how long we'll be there." He bit out.

Hermione rushed for the stairs. "Do you need anything from your bedroom?" He shook his head. She sprinted up the stairs and into her bedroom. Grabbing her purse, and a charger as they would surely need one, she slipped her converse halfway on before making her way down the stairs.

She leaned against the railing to put her shoes on properly, but Malfoy already had his keys in hand. As he came up to her, she wasn't sure what he meant to do. Maybe he just meant to rush her along with his presence. "We don't have time for this," he growled.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to hurry -"

He shook his head, grabbing her and picking her up. "Put them on in the car."

She didn't fight him, or point out that she could have walked on her own. Too worried for his current state of mind, she didn't say much at all. He murmured for her to keep her head down as he threw her into the side of his car.

Draco rushed around the front, his fingers skimming against the hood. Over the sound of the engine coming to life, he held one finger up. "I know you want to reassure me, but not right now, Hermione. Later, sure, but don't give me whimsical advice and promises you don't know you can keep." His voice was thick, and his eyes watery. Though he didn't let her see it as he turned his head away from her.

Hermione nodded her head. "I won't, but I'll be here no matter what. Maybe that doesn't matter right this second, but I can promise that I'll be here."

He exhaled a sharp breath, casting a long look at her before giving a jerky nod. "It means something."

"Good," she whispered as he pulled down the drive, accelerating quickly enough to flatten her back against the leather seat.

"When we get there -" he sighed, clenching the wheel tightly with one hand "- you should have a doctor look at your foot. I'm sure it's a bad burn."

"I can't feel anything." But of course she knew that she was in shock. "I will," she finally said, "after we know what's wrong."

"Alright," Draco muttered, reaching across the car to rip the seatbelt into place, his thumb brushing against her bare hip. "She'll be okay."

It wasn't clear if he was saying it to her, or trying to convince himself so she didn't say so much as a word.

Hermione reached out tentatively though to take his hand, leaving him the option to tear his hand away if he wanted. To her surprise, he slid his fingers through the spaces of her own, and squeezed tightly. "Thank you." It was so quiet she could have imagined it.

"Any time." She nodded, brushing his knuckles. "I made a promise."

She sat in her seat in silence as they merged into traffic, street light bleeding into the car while she laid her head against the headrest. "Is this the hospital I went to when you thought I broke my elbow?"

He snorted. "Yeah. It is." And then he squeezed her hand once more. Only this time his grip didn't loosen until they pulled into the parking garage of the hospital and he had to let go.

* * *

The hospital emergency department was a flurry of activity. Doctors and nurses rushed around them, and neither of them knew where to go. Wherever his mother was now, they didn't have a clue, and the nurse's station wasn't particularly forthcoming with the information.

"What the fuck do you mean you can't tell me where she is? She's my  _mother._ " Draco hissed, his fist coming down hard on the counter, landing on the edge of a clipboard that sent papers flying everywhere.

"Sir, if you cannot calm down, I'm afraid that security will escort you from the building," the nurse said in a shaky voice, clutching her clipboard to her chest.

Hermione grabbed him by the back of his jumper before stepping up to the counter. "I apologize, but he's just worried for his mother. Is there anyone who could check her patient file? She was admitted here in September, and I would assume they allowed him into see her."

The nurse's eyes softened. "Let me make a call, and see if anyone can dig that up for me. If you don't mind waiting in the lobby -"

"Of  _course_  I bloody mind, you -"

Hermione nodded, smiling. "Yes, that would be perfect. I'm just going to take him into the hallway. His name is Draco Malfoy." She dragged him into the corridor by his hand, although he was snippy the whole way. "Draco, you can't harass the hospital staff because you're angry."

"What if it was your mother?" he asked her, not unkindly, but he started to backtrack as soon as the words left his mouth.

With a weak smile, she combed through her windswept hair with her fingers. "I was an utter, scathing bitch when she was admitted. So yeah, I get it, but unless you want security to kick you out, I need you to calm down. It's not the nurse's fault. They can't have just anyone storming into a patient's room."

"Or a surgery," he groaned, dragging his hand down his face. "Oh, fuck, what if it's surgery? She's so weak, and she can't go through that."

Hermione only bit her lip as she leaned against the wall. "If they rushed her to surgery, I think someone at that desk would have known. For now, all we can do is wait."

"Fuck you and your rational thinking," he muttered.

"I know, it really is a hassle to be right all of the time," she told him. "It probably won't be long, so just - just count backward from ten. Deep breaths while you do it."

He stared at her. "What?"

Resisting the urge to kick him, she repeated herself. "Look, I don't have much to go off besides what helps me. While I understand it might not help you, it's all I've got. So count back from ten, and take deep breaths to calm down."

"Is this a practice you do often?" He leaned against the wall, staring down at her while she shuffled her feet. "Granger?"

She sighed, kicking the trim with the toe of her shoe. "Not since I came here. Tonight was the first time - when I called for help. I was angry when my mom got sick, and rightly so, but I couldn't start destroying things every time I realized the world wasn't fair, you know? She wouldn't have wanted me to live like that."

Malfoy blinked, leaning down to her as if he was looking at her for the first time. "Did you actually destroy shit, or is that an example?"

Hermione laughed, adjusting her glasses to sit on top of her head. "Oh, no, I really did," she muttered, pushing up her sleeve. "I have this," she murmured, lifting her wrist to show a tiny white scar on the inside of her wrist. "I have a few other scars on this hand, mostly on my knuckles. She was at the hospital and I just learned she had cancer, and that it was already too late."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not fine, so I won't say it is, but it's day by day. We had a door in our house, and she knew I was lying when I said I slipped and put my hand through it. I destroyed my bedroom, which is childish when I think of it now. I punched that door, and shattered it. It was thin glass, and that's how this happened."

Draco took her hand, so much smaller in his, and turned it over. He traced the small scars, scars that were nearly invisible to someone who didn't know they were there. "I didn't think you'd have it in you."

Smirking to herself she tugged her sleeve back down. "I was angry, and I've yelled at my fair share of hospital staff, so I know that you're being a jerk. And you have to quit because they felt bad for me. They're just terrified of you."

He chuckled under his breath. "Right, because I'm not a little girl."

She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not little." Hermione defended though it was a lie. Compared to him she was ridiculously small. A full foot shorter. "Alright, maybe a compared to you."

"Compared to me, you're a hobbit."

Her laugh bubbled up, loudly echoing in the empty corridor. "That's fair, I guess."

The door to the waiting room was pushed open, and the nurse appeared. "Thank you for waiting," she told Hermione, pressing a piece of paper into her hand. "She's on the sixth floor, room 16. When you come out from the elevator, take a right and you will come to a corridor. Follow that all the way down and it will be on the right hand side." The woman didn't so much as look at Malfoy.

"Excuse me," he started, catching the door as she turned away. "I apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for, and you were undeserving."

She smiled, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "It's a rough night, sir. I understand. I hope your mum is okay." And the door shut behind her.

"Don't stare at me," he muttered, but Hermione squeezed his shoulder anyway. "I can be polite."

"Someone alert the press," Hermione said, already making her way to the elevator.

* * *

Narcissa laid in a hospital bed, clad in a white gown, and her hair matted against the uncomfortable looking pillow. Hooked up to the machines with an IV in her arm, she looked too much like Hermione's mother a year earlier.

Hermione hovered at the door, clutching her arm that she'd crossed over her stomach. Lucius sat in a chair, still in Christmas pajamas, and his hair disheveled. "She won't wake up for a few hours at the least," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "They've taken blood samples."

"So we just wait," Hermione said, not asking because she had been here before. "Did the doctor have a guess as to what was wrong?"

Lucius shook his head. "Not yet."

Draco sat in the chair beside her, her hand in his as he stared at her. Murmuring something under his breath she couldn't here, she just stayed back.

"Lucius, do you need anything to eat?" she asked. They'd already been here an hour, and it was close to midnight. With how things looked, they wouldn't go home at all tonight.

"No, but thank you. You can sit here if you want." He stood from his chair, but she shook her head.

"No, no, I need to get something from the car anyway." Hermione nodded to him before shutting the door behind her.

She hadn't forgotten anything at all, but no matter how she told Draco how he ought to handle the situation she knew she couldn't do it at all. It was too much like reliving it, and maybe it made her selfish to run from it - again.

Hermione shoved her hands in her pockets as she meandered down the quiet corridors. This part of the hospital wasn't as bustling as the emergency department. Once in a while she would pass a nurse, or a doctor who greeted her with a smile and moved on. Not one person asked if she was okay, but that was how she preferred it.

With her eyes still bloodshot, and puffy it was clear she was anything but okay. Her jumper was too loose for her with it sliding off of her shoulders with every step she took. Her shoes squeaked against the tile, and there was just nothing she could do for her hair.

The hospital was like a maze, a maze she hoped she wouldn't have to learn. Hopefully they wouldn't be here that often. On the far north end of the sixth floor she found a vending machine, and bought a bottle of water with the spare money that was in her pocket. She ought to have thought someone would eventually come to look for her since she'd never returned from the parking garage like she said she was going to.

Hermione Granger hadn't expected him to sneak up behind her though. "Granger," he rasped.

She caught his reflection in the glass as she turned around. Hermione's lips parted as she looked him over. Draco looked worse for wear, his eyes red. "I probably should have just told the truth that I wanted to be alone," she blurted, scratching the back of her neck.

"Yeah, probably. You should have seen my father frantically searching a parking garage in footie pajamas for you."

She choked. "Oh, my God. Poor Lucius." She laughed then at the way his smile broadened. "Is he terribly angry with me?"

He shook his head. "He's a bit furious that no one knows what's wrong with his wife, and that the bottoms of his footie pajamas are filthy now, but beyond that no. He's not angry with you at all."

"I just -" she giggled. "Do you imagine that security would let me see the footage of that?"

"I wouldn't hold my breath, but I took a video." He slapped his phone into her hand and clicked play.

" _Where is she? Draco, get off your blasted mobile, and help me."_

" _She's probably lost in the hospital somewhere."_

_Lucius groaned, padding around in pajamas until he stepped right on a rock. "Son of a bitch, "he hissed. "If your mother were awake she'd tell you someone could have abducted her."_

" _Not to worry, Father, they would bring her right back."_

" _Don't be a ninny. You'd go fetch her and you know it." Lucius rolled his eyes, lifting his foot to get a look at the soles. "Filthy. Bollocks, did they have to be white?"_

The video cut off, and she was covering her mouth to muffle her laughter. "I needed that," she muttered, handing him his phone back. "Sorry, it was just hard to be in there. She hasn't woken up yet, has she?"

"I don't think she'll be waking up for a while. She hit her head pretty hard on the way down," he replied. "I don't imagine you want to be told this in front of others, but all we know right now is that they're doing all kinds of tests."

"What?" she asked.

Draco looked like he was about to tell her something that would hurt her more than him. Which didn't make any sense when this was his mother. Inhaling sharply, he told her softly, "Cancer."

Her eyes widened, and her heart leapt into her throat. "It's only tests," she whispered, afraid to speak any louder.

"I know that."

"You don't have to comfort me. She's your mother, not mine. If anything it should be me that -"

He crushed her into a hug, resting his chin on top of her head. "I swear on everything that's holy if you are about to tell me you can't be scared, or sad for her, I'll toss you out of this goddamn window."

She snorted, sliding her hands up his back. "I just meant that -"

"That you don't have as much a right to be scared as I do. Granger, I already cried in the room so it's all you now, princess."

She nodded into his chest, her eyes welling up. "Your shirt will get wet."

"It's fine."

* * *

It was a long night, and visiting hours had closed by the time the two of them made it back to the room. A nurse let them know they could come back in the morning, and they could be called if any changes in her conditions were made.

But she was just as stubborn as he was when it came to Narcissa. The staff were kind enough to let Lucius stay in the room, and even gave him a spare change of clothes they'd gotten from the already closed gift shop.

Draco sat on her right in the uncomfortable chairs, propping his feet up on another he'd dragged out. At some point, she was too drowsy to remember how it happened, she reached for him. Or he reached for her. With their fingers intertwined she didn't say a word. Fuck, if she were honest she could barely breathe. He fell asleep, laying his head on her shoulder and passing out in the middle of the waiting room.

Too wired to let sleep swallow her, Hermione was still awake when a nurse came to tell there was a room under remodeling that was empty, and they could sleep there for the night. Waking him, she murmured the news and he sleepily followed her down the hall. The nurse let them into the room, apologizing for the fact that there was only one bed.

"There are spare pillows and blankets in the cupboard, though." She left them with that, and closed the door behind her.

Hermione kicked her shoes off as he discarded his jacket. "It's freezing in here," she groaned, wiggling her toes through her socks on the cold tile.

He just looked at her, his eyebrow arched and the corner of his mouth lifted. "Body heat, princess. Grab extra blankets. I'm fucking exhausted."

So she did grab extra, awkwardly climbing into bed with him as he faced the opposite way.

* * *

The same nurse who had given them the room led Lucius to find them that afternoon. The sun shining through the curtains, Hermione had ripped the blankets over her head, and to her own shock, Malfoy was spooning her.

And if that wasn't awkward when it was Draco's father finding them, she didn't know what was. It was a simple conversation, one that Draco didn't even sit up for.

"The two of you should go home and sleep in a real bed," Lucius began. " _Seperate_ beds," he corrected, and her cheeks caught fire. "They still don't know what's wrong, but if it comes back positive for cancer they'll prep her for surgery immediately. I'll call if anything happens."

"Do you think it will come to that?" Draco asked from her side, his arm covering his face.

Lucius sighed. "Right now, I think it's more likely than not, and the two of you being here won't solve anything. Go home, and sleep, and you can come back after you've gotten at least eight hours."

* * *

The ride home was silent with his anger and frustration only rising every moment.

The front door slammed behind Draco, and she jumped out of his way, her back flattening against the wall. "Calm down," she stuttered, rushing after him as she made his way to the kitchen. "She's going to be okay - Draco, look at me." She reached for his shoulder, shrieking when he turned too fast.

His eyes were wide, and she hated the way his eyes were bloodshot from staying up all night at the hospital. "What do you want from me?"

"I-"

"Is this where you tell me how it's going to be okay, Granger? What the fuck would you know about it? Your mother  _died."_

With her chest heaving, and hot tears pricking her eyes, she raised her hand and slapped him. There was a red handprint across his cheek. "Don't you dare bring my mother into this, Draco."

His face crumbled when she hiccuped, and she wiped her face. "I shouldn't have said that," He grumbled, kneeling to pull a bottle of whiskey from his father's cupboard. Slamming the door of an overhead cupboard open, he grabbed a tumbler and set it on the counter. "Want one?"

She sighed. "That's not a healthy way to cope. What would your mother think?"

Draco turned around, towering over her. "Well, I used to fuck Ginny whenever I had problems, but she had to run off and get a bloody boyfriend," he snarled.

Confronted with the confirmation of his fucking arrangement with Ginny, she couldn't hide the surprise from her face. And then she did the one thing she shouldn't have done. Going on the offensive wasn't her style - she was too used to her temper causing things to blow up in her face. Hermione scoffed in his face. "Will sex help you then?" she asked him simply, stepping towards him, and cocking her head to the right.

He didn't move. "Are you offering?" He sneered, finally pivoting to turn away from her and back to his booze.

"Depends on your answer," she said softly. Her eyes flicking from the intense stare in his eyes, and his lips, she nodded. "Yeah, I'm offering."

The bottle of whiskey still in his hand, it shattered against the floor, the booze splashing against the bottom of her jeans as it slipped from his grip. Draco pressed her to the wall, and pinned her hands over her head as he bent down to kiss her.

His lips were hard on hers, frenzied as he held boths of her wrists in one hand, and tilted her chin up.

Hermione whimpered, biting down on his bottom lip roughly. "Draco."

He pulled away, just a breath away from her lips. "Hermione, one thing."

"What?" she snapped, impatient.

"I'm a bastard in bed," he admitted quietly. "I won't hurt you, but -"

"You're rough," she finished. "I know, Ginny told me, as did Pansy. Luna jumped into the conversation too. I am not afraid of you."

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MRS. REN, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?? A CLIFFHANGER?? 
> 
> A few things to say: A) This was planned. I know it comes out of left field, but this is what I was building to the entire time. B) If you love Narcissa as much as I do, it hurt me to write this, and I made CourtingInsanity cry when she edited it. C) Beyond editing, the next chapter is fully written. I'm not too sure when it will be up set as both CI and I are participating in nanowrimo. Plus I would like to be another chapter ahead before uploading, but I'm typing pretty quickly as of late! D) I'm heading off to work now, and I look forward to reading your reactions that you will hopefully leave me. 
> 
>  
> 
> E) And this is last thing I'll leave you with, if I could up the rating for the next chapter alone, it would be E for explicit.


	13. It's Just One Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: READ THIS FIRST. Please and thank you.
> 
> Because I know there are a few of you who might not enjoy this to the fullest if you're worried about Narcissa - she is not going to die. I am not going to kill her, and you will be pleased with the resolution in this chapter for her.
> 
> This scene is the same on FFN & AO3. If I was given the choice to rate this chapter alone, it would be explicit. It is my longest lemon in a fully plotted story. I hope it doesn't disappoint. See gratuitous notes at the end if you don't mind rambling. Otherwise...there's smut right below this line break, y'all and we waited 71k for this.

 

* * *

He asked her if she was sure three more times - once as he picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her fingers tangled in his hair while she was pressed to the wall, she whimpered. And then he made her say it outloud because he wanted to be sure.

And while she appreciated the sudden show of chivalry, Hermione didn't want it at the moment.

Tugging at his hair, she pressed herself closer to him, her breasts flush against his chest. The hottest thing about the moment wasn't even that he was kissing her. It was the way he was holding her up with one hand while the other slapped against the wall above her head. "Fuck," Hermione hissed as his hips pressed to hers, his cock already hard through his jeans. The friction already driving her crazy, she pulled his head back by his hair.

Heavy lidded, and his lips already bruised, the smallest amounts of color rising to his cheeks, he murmured, "What?"

She swallowed, drumming up the courage to say it before he thought she'd changed her mind. No mistake about it, he would believe he'd scared her, that he was  _too_ intense, but she craved it.

And in the back of her mind, an echoing voice that rattled around in her skull to think about the aftermath of sleeping with her housemate, maybe that made her a foolish girl. Yet pressed against the hard body of his, his erection pressed to the apex of her thighs through her jeans, she didn't care.

"Bed," she demanded, her voice sounding rougher than she'd ever heard.

His eyes widened, but he didn't hesitate as he pulled her from the wall. Draco groaned, a loud, guttural sound that made her shake against him, as she kissed down his neck. And as he reached the bottom of the stairs, past the blasted Christmas tree he couldn't stand to look at now, he slammed her to the wall with such force that frames fell.

Hermione bit down hard, her fingers holding his jaw so she would have room. His fingers dug into her hips. "Bed,  _now,_ " she whispered, looking up at him. "I hope you don't mind I've left a mark." She smirked, her touch sliding across the love bite.

He had a dumbfounded look on his face, and that was the second time, "Are you sure about this?" passed his lips.

She nodded, pushing his jacket from his shoulders. "If you don't take me into that bedroom right now, I swear to God -"

"You'll what? Fuck me on the stairs?" For a moment, everything else was gone, even the pressure that she knew would be back on the two of them soon.

She glanced down at the stairs, and all of the space that  _didn't_ have broken glass around them. Her lips stretching into a wide grin, she gave a nonchalant shrug. "I think we could manage it."

"You fucking cheeky little -"

Hermione grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauling him forward to press her lips to his feverishly. "Stop dawdling, Malfoy. Bedroom," she reminded him again. "While I could ride you on the stairs, I don't think it would be comfortable."

He snorted, and stormed up the stairs. Kicking his door open, he set her on her feet, but didn't let her go. "Come here," he murmured, sliding his fingers into her messy curls and kissed her slowly. His tongue sliding against the seam of her lips - not even fully kissing her yet - she felt dizzy.

Mirroring his movements she kicked her shoes off, her socks, her hands were flat on his chest. He dragged whimpers from her as his hand fell from her hair - with some difficulty of course - and he kneaded the soft flesh of her hip.

She moved to unbutton her jeans, taking charge she told herself, but he grabbed her hand. "Leave it. I want to undress you."

It felt like they were at an impasse, with him staring back at her like she was a completely new version of herself. One that had no qualms about sex, or talking about it, or one that would make the first move. "Controlling bastard, huh?" She sniggered. Driven purely by the was his eyes flashed, she didn't break eye contact. "Bed," Hermione repeated, pushing him toward the bed.

He walked backward, his hands still gripping her hips though they had yet to stray anywhere else. Malfoy let her shove him onto the bed, but she'd half expected for him to stop her.

She straddled his waist, rolling her hips against him once before he tugged her down. It was a split second really before Hermione found herself pressed against the mattress, her back against the soft pillows, and she was utterly and totally surrounded by  _him_.

The hem of her shirt riding up, his palm slid up her stomach, heavy and warm. Malfoy hadn't broken away from kissing her, rather taking her moans for himself as he traced the outline of the cups of her bra. "I need you out of this," he muttered, pulling her to sit up.

Her eyes lit up as she grinned. "Only if you do the same."

Without pausing, or commenting, he reached behind his head to tear his shirt over his head. Her mouth drying at the way his muscles flexed, or the way the veins in his forearms stood out, she realized that such a simple movement should not have been as attractive as it was. He tugged her shirt up, pulling it over her head, and discarding it in the floor. "Oh, my fucking God," he hissed, lunging for her. Malfoy peppered kisses along her clavicle, moving lower until his lips were skimming the swell of her breasts.

She broke when his tongue slid along the cup, barely touching her skin, until it dipped beneath the material. "Malfoy," she choked, her head falling back, and her back arching.

"No," he grumbled against her skin as he moved to the other side, "don't call me Malfoy during this."

Chills ran down her spine. "Habit," she admitted quietly though she called him Draco plenty of times. "You have to -"

"I know, Hermione," he cut her off from saying how he would have to call her the same, and she realized it would be impossible to hear her name from him any other way. "But I want to remember what you sound like crying out my name when I take you."

"Draco," she gasped, clutching his shoulders. He would be the death of her sanity, that much she was sure of. He was going to tease her, drive her mad with anticipation. Hermione reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, only to have him pull her hands away.

Chuckling under his breath while he peered up at her as he dragged his lips down her stomach, he held her hands at her sides. "Don't rush. We have all night."

If it were possible for her heart to stop in her chest, that would have surely done it. "I'm impatient."

"Foreplay is half of the fun," he murmured.

She mewled, squirming beneath him. "This is hardly foreplay when you're just teasing me," Hermione said, her voice borderline with begging for him to do something.

His laugh was dark and muffled against her skin. "Anticipation is the other half," he replied.

She rolled her eyes, her back arching as he rubbed her clit through her jeans. "Oh," she moaned, pressing her hips closer toward him. "What about the act itself?"

If she'd looked, she'd have seen him smirking while he slowly worked her with his thumb. "Perhaps my math is skewed." He flicked the button of her jeans open, and then the zipper before slowly dragging them down her legs.

She wasn't wearing anything worth showing off, but it wasn't as if she could have expected this to happen. Draco didn't complain of the plain, black cotton knickers she wore. No, he pressed his lips to her cunt, his tongue rolling against where her clit was. "Fuck!" she shrieked, trembling too harshly to hold her legs up any longer.

He held her inner thighs, stroking the soft skin there as he slid back up the curve of her body.

Not that she hardly gave him a chance to do anything before she told him to take his fucking pants off. Laughing, he stood on the side of the bed as he slid them off. "You're beautiful," he murmured as he climbed back onto the bed, tipping her face up to look at him. "I mean it, Hermione."

She nodded, her voice lodged in her throat, and she wasn't sure what she would have said anyway.

He tugged her to her knees, lifting her with one arm to straddle his hips. His hard cock was pressed against her cunt through her knickers, something that had her rolling her hips and whimpering for more. He'd said he was a bastard in bed, but she'd yet to see it.

Draco slid his hands up her back, occasionally dragging his nails down just to see her shudder. His lips were skimming her shoulder, dropping to her breasts, and when he finally reached for her bra, she sighed in relief.

Until he let go of it, just to tease her. With a smirk, and only after she'd called him a bastard again, he reached for the clasp. Hermione's eyes widened he undid it with one hand, and only a small twist of his fingers. "Do this often?" She laughed.

"A time or two," he replied with a laugh.

She tossed her bra onto the floor beside his jeans, on the opposite side from where her other clothes were. Hermione tried to cover her chest as a wave of self doubt crashed over her.

Draco tugged her arms down gently. "I meant what I said," he whispered, his voice gruff as he took her nipple into his mouth.

"Draco," she moaned, sliding her fingers into his hair. The strokes of his tongue were soft at first, until he rolled her stiffened nipple between his teeth. Until he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger.

There was nothing she could do beyond writhing against him, locked in a tight embrace as he explored each inch and dip of her skin. His fingers sliding along her spine, brushing against her knickers as he cupped her arse.

Hermione let her head fall back, trembling against him. This wasn't like the other times. In the back of her head, rationality was carrying on of how bloody  _obvious_  it was that Draco Malfoy had done this several times, and not just a time or two. It didn't bother her, for the sole reason that he didn't belong to her, and she didn't belong to him.

But it did make her feel like she had something to prove, just a little. Digging her nails into his shoulders, Hermione pushed him backward. Crawling to fit herself in the curve of him, she didn't shyly look away like he probably expected her to as she cupped him through his boxers.

A hiss escaping him, Draco fisted his hand in her hair and kissed her roughly.

She was silently thankful his eyes were closed when she realized how well endowed he was. Thick in her hand, her eyes widened before drifting shut as his tongue slid against hers. "Off," she murmured against him, smiling when he laughed.

"So fucking impatient," he growled.

The silence was brief, until in a quiet voice, she admitted, "I want to feel you, skin to skin."

He had a penchant for pinning her on her back, and holding her arms above her head. "You are full of fucking surprises."

"There's a joke to be made about what I'm full of," Hermione sniggered, her bangs falling into her face.

His steely expression dissipated as he hung his head, laughing loudly. "Shut up."

She watched, her heart hammering in her chest as he knelt between her legs much lower than he had before. "Draco," she whispered, propping herself up on her forearms. It was a heady feeling to watch him - also to feel him - kissing up her inner thighs. Nearly being so close to be exactly where she wanted him, but then he dropped to the other side, and started all over again.

He took the waistband of her knickers in between his teeth, slowly tugging them down as her eyes widened. Draco tossed them behind him - she was pretty sure they'd landed on the arm of the chair in front of his desk.

Of course there was the sudden panic that maybe she should have taken another shower even though she'd taken one the morning before, or that she would taste badly.  _He'd blow a gasket if I even said that,_  Hermione thought. Not that her self doubt just vanished, but it was pretty fucking close as his tongue slid against her clit.

"Draco," she dragged out his name, and it was a shriek that carried throughout the manor. "God, God," Hermione panted.

Draco slid a finger into her carefully as his tongue flicked against her clit. And while her eyes had fluttered shut more than once, his had never left her. Too addicted to the sight of her under him, crying out, he wouldn't have missed a moment of it.

Romance novels had nothing on - her train of thought abruptly ended as a second finger slid into her cunt. A snug fit, he slowly pumped into her, sucking her clit enough to nearly bring her over the edge, but not quite.

"I want to kiss you," she gasped.

He gave her what she wanted, and on a side note, she was pretty sure he'd have given her whatever she wanted when it came to right now. Grabbing his face, Hermione kissed him desperately. "Draco," she moaned, pressing her hips closer to him.

"You taste sublime," he rasped, his fingers curling inside of her.

She'd never screamed, she  _swore_ that she hadn't. Yet with his filthy words that were going to stay in the back of her head for some time to come, and his fingers slamming into her, she'd screamed his name. Hermione buried her face in his shoulder, raking her nails down his back so hard there would be marks. "Right there," she sobbed, feeling his slow smirk against her neck. "I'm going to come if you keep -"

"You've got ten seconds to come over my fingers, Hermione," He growled, and it didn't register what that meant.

And then his fingers were thrusting into her even harder, curling against the spot that he'd sought out nearly immediately. Hermione shrieked, "Draco, fuck!" right below his ear.

Dazed, and confused she stared at him accusingly when he slowed down, his thumb brushing her clit teasingly. "What?" she gasped, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

"Ten seconds to come, princess. I counted." He wore a wide, triumphant smirk.

Hermione gaped at him. "You fucking bastard," she hissed, but she was unable to hide her smile. She took him by surprise, pushing him onto his back which seemed to be something they would constantly be doing to one-up the other. Hermione tugged his boxers down.

"What are you - shit, Granger," he groaned as she took his heavy erection into her hand, stroking him.

"Hermione," she corrected cheekily, leaning forward and wrapping her lips around the tip. Hermione let him tug her into his side while she swirled her tongue around the tip, her cheeks hollowing as she took him farther into his mouth.

" _Hermione_ ," he moaned, holding her hair out her face with one hand, and his fingers sliding around the divets of her spine.

It was more than a little intoxicating being the one in control.

The tip of his cock hit the back of her throat, and Hermione gagged. She thought it was an embarrassing sound, and Draco - well, he seemed rather pleased with it if she were honest.

"Can I have you?" he managed, his breathing ragged. "Right now? I can't stand not having you," he murmured.

She glared at him. "Will you at least make me come this time?" Hermione retorted, her voice sour.

"I'll make you come over and over again until you can't take it."

* * *

He'd meant it when he said he was a bastard in bed, that he was rough, and at the time when emotions were running high, he briefly considering taking her against the space of wall in the kitchen.

Draco wanted to fuck her hard, or he had - at least until she turned out to be a literal fucking ray of sunshine. With her giggling, and the stupid jokes she told, it had softened him toward her. And he would have been rough, but there was the niggling thought that she deserved better than that.

And he didn't harbor any illusions that this would lead to anything, but if he could be the one to give her something worth remembering instead of a rough tumble in between his sheets, then he would.  _Of course I would, like the goddamned sap she's turned me into._

She let him lead, let him part her creamy thighs and slide between them. She reached for him, pulling him flush against her tight body that she'd offered for comfort. "Draco..." she whispered, her smile reaching her eyes as it always did. "What are you waiting for?"

It was the third time he asked her, "Are you sure?" Not one to question typically, but he still couldn't believe that any of this was real. "Hermione, you don't have to do this just to make me feel better -" he babbled as he reached for the nightstand, for the foil packet that she snatched from his hands and tore open with her teeth.

And there she was, cutting him off like she always did because it was their  _thing_. "I wouldn't have stayed if I didn't want it," she murmured, digging her heels into the bottom of his back. "So, yeah I'm sure."

He didn't look away from her, though she couldn't keep her eyes open as he slid into her. Her walls snug around him, he groaned, balling up the sheets under his fist.

"Oh, fuck," she whimpered, her back arching and her breasts shaking. Her eyes still closed, eyelashes a sharp contrast against her pale cheeks, she was stunning.

The least he could do was admit it to himself.

Draco teased her by sliding so slowly into her, pinching her nipple just enough to make her whimper so sweetly again.

"Oh, my God," she mewled, scratching his chest as he withdrew from her, sliding into her harder this time. Her eyes rolling back in her head, he smirked to himself. "You feel so fucking good," Hermione admitted from under him.

He continued slowly, dragging her moans from her. "Harder," she pleaded, and well, who was he to deny her?

She was warm below him, her hands positively fucking everywhere as she worked to be closer to him. Malfoy could remember the very first day he'd met her, wild, and with a chip on her shoulder, wholly interesting to him. He'd thought of this - he would be a liar if he said he hadn't - and it shouldn't have been a surprise that she was even better than his fantasies.

The most dangerous thing of all was that he wasn't sure how this night could end without him wanting to see her every night. She was only across the hall - Draco was enthralled by the look on her face.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, and she bit her bottom lip as she whimpered below him. Legs wrapped tightly around his waist, she clung to him. "Fucking God." She moaned, her back arching off the bed, and her body molding into his. Hermione whimpered his name, dragging it out as he slid into her while his fingers moved over her clit.

Murmuring it over and over again like a prayer, he clenched his jaw, and picked her up. Her legs positioned over his shoulders - it took a split moment of awkward repositioning - he thrusted into her.

His hips snapping forward, his slid into her roughly while he rubbed her clit. She covered her mouth in an effort to muffle her shrieks. And that just wouldn't do. Draco tugged her hands away. "Let me hear you, Hermione."

Her name on his lips had more of an effect over her than she would have admitted. "I'm going to -" she murmured.  _If that wasn't the best fucking thing she's said all night._

He nodded. "Come for me."

Her eyes widened as he rubbed her clit quickly, pumping into her and bending down to capture her lips with his. "Draco," she moaned, biting his bottom lip hard. "Fuck, I -"

"Now, Hermione," he growled, and really, though it was unlike him, he was only holding on as long as she did. And not a goddamned second longer.

And when she was gone, she dragged him over the edge with her, his name on the tip of her tongue.

* * *

When Hermione stirred some eight hours later, she saw the sun trickling in through a window that wasn't hers. Frost on the window, intricate snowflakes; she lingered on the details in her own confusion.

It was as if the truth slammed into her with the way she was knocked out of breath. Glancing down to see his arm slung over her hips, his fingers splayed across her belly. He was pressed against her firmly, though she knew they hadn't fallen asleep cuddling.

Her mind reeling, she wasn't sure who had reached across the bed first. It could have been... most likely was her. It was just what she would do, not wanting the skin to skin contact to end. She couldn't imagine Draco would be the one to reach for her.

She was sore, that much she was sure of from the first moment she moved. Her legs ached from being wrapped around him, and her lips felt bruised. As the details of the night rushed up to meet her, he sighed into her neck.

Draco was pressed against her with one arm tucked beneath the pillow her head rested on, and the other secure around her waist. He laid his head in the crook of his neck, his lips pressed to the column of her neck. The two of them still naked, his cock was pressed against her arse.

She wiggled to get out of the bed, to at least get her clothes before they had what was sure to be an awkward conversation. She'd slept with Draco, her housemate who, whether she liked to admit it or not, had a certain sort of effect on her.

"Oh, my fucking God." Hermione muttered, ducking out from his grip and swinging her legs over the bed.

"Where going?" Draco murmured sleepily, gently pulling her back.

"Draco," she whispered, poking him in the side. "Draco, wake up and look at me."

"Sleep, Granger."

"We slept together."

He sat straight up, his eyes widened as the sheets fell from his chest. The thin white sheets did nothing to cover the outline of his bulging erection. "Holy fuck." Malfoy breathed, looking her up and down.

Heat pooled in her cheeks, slowly working her way down her neck. "Yeah." Hermione replied. "I'm not angry. I just woke up and we were cuddling and well..." she motioned to below the sheets.

For what might be the first time since she met him, he blushed. "I didn't seduce you." It was the first thing out of his mouth, and there was no helping her giggle.

"I'm aware of that." Hermione laughed, folding her arms across her chest. "I remember very clearly this was my idea." At his dumbfounded nod, she continued. "However, I think we've found ourselves with a dilemma." There was an irritating voice in the back of her head, one that voiced her self doubt, and the same one that had been protesting the notion that Malfoy could feel anything for her beyond the frequent irritation.

 _It was a mistake, he already knows it, but do you really believe he wants to tell you it was a mistake?_ Hermione gulped, looking around the room, anywhere that wasn't him. Assuming - and being quite positive she was right - Draco regretted everything, she expected what he said next.

Draco swallowed, "Do you want to pretend it never happened?"

Hermione nodded, her stomach lurching at hearing the words out loud even if she'd already believed them.

She tilted her head to the side. "I don't think one day should make our entire friendship awkward, do you?" Hermione replied.  _They did have a friendship, or at least the beginning of one. It would be a waste of two months if I got hung up on this._ "I think we both needed...it." She didn't voice of how the tension was like a dam bursting, or that the passion had been so much she was sure she'd compare anyone else to him. That part didn't need to be said. "Obviously your opinion on this matters just as much to me."

He nodded. "Of course we can forget about it. It's just one day, isn't it?"

"Exactly. One day doesn't have to change everything. You're still a prick, and we'll still bicker." She'd pulled her side of the sheet over her chest, but she hadn't made a move out of the bed. Not with him looking at her as he was, not when she wanted to lean forward and let the sheet drop.

"And you're still a swot, nothing changed there." He smirked. "Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"The one day isn't over," he told her, eyes flicked up to her lips.

She made the move. Either of them could look back on the moment, and remember how she'd straddled his waist and lowered her mouth to his.

He wasn't as slow with her as the night before. Instead tangling his fingers in her already knotted hair and flipping her onto her back. Nestled in between her thighs, Draco rubbed his cock against her cunt, the tip brushing against her clit and causing her to whimper.

She gasped, throwing her head back as he took his time to drag his tongue over every inch of her body. "Draco." Hermione moaned as he slid down her frame, sliding her legs over his shoulders and lowering his mouth to her. As sensitive as she already was, she bit her bottom lip to bottle her cries as he licked her clit.

He wasn't slow in bringing her to orgasm. Not with sliding two fingers inside of her, curling them against her walls, or reaching up to pinch her nipple. She shuddered below him, mewling his name and she fell slack against the bed. Taking in the sight of him, needy and frenzied, she was panting as she propped herself up on her forearms. "How do you want me?"

"That's a dangerous thing to ask," he murmured, motioning for her to turn over.

She listened, sitting on her knees.

His fingers digging into the soft skin of her hips, he pulled her against him. Draco dipped his head to drag his lips along her neck, along her shoulder. He surely left a mark on her neck as his hand slipped down her stomach and he rubbed her clit teasingly. His breath heavy beside her ear, Hermione pushed her arse against his cock.

"You're such a fucking tease," she hissed.

"Am I?" he asked her. "Hands and knees for me, princess."

Hermione arched her back as she did as he instructed. "Please?" she murmured under her breath.

He only made her wait a moment, seemingly not able to wait either. He pushed her legs together - to heighten the sensation of his cock she realized as he slid into her. Hermione laid her head on her shoulders, rocking back against him. "Oh, God." She sobbed, her fingers curling into a fist. "Fuck." And maybe she needed just a little assurance. "Does it feel good?"

Okay, she felt dumb asking the question, and perhaps she was looking for a compliment.  _So?_

His chuckle was dark, low under his breath, and his words were emphasized by a hard thrust of his hips. "You are exquisite," he told her, dragging a finger along her spine. "Are you just as adventurous in everything, Hermione?" He switched the position, whispering that he wanted to see her face when she came around his cock.

She couldn't say she was complaining. Draco settled her legs on his shoulders, driving into her roughly while kissing her. She tugged at his hair harshly, pleased with the low groan that left him whenever she did.

They both should have known the world would come crashing down, as was their luck.

"Draco! Hermione!"

She squeaked as he stilled inside of her, covering her mouth she she wouldn't give them away. He fumbled for his phone, checking the time, and his eyes narrowed. "He's called me ten times," he muttered. "Don't make a sound, alright?" Draco told her, pulling his hand away.

"What is Theo doing here? Probably worried about you," Hermione muttered, answering her own question. "You need to get rid of him."

"I'm not done with you." He smirked.

"It's a full day, and I'll make an exception later. Right now you need to get him downstairs so I can go to my room and get dressed." She slid out from under him, grabbing her knickers from the floor. The moment was shot anyway.

* * *

Theo rode with them, sitting in the set behind her own. Draco gripped the steering wheel, pulling into the hospital parking garage, and it was hard for her to grapple with all that had happened in a twenty four hour period. Her hips were sore, something she winced at as she stood from the car, taking her bag from Theo's outstretched hand.

While the two men had said nothing to one another in the car, she'd noted Theo's arm slung around Draco's shoulder when she came to the bottom of the stairs of the manor. Perhaps they would sort out their differences now that the frailty of life had slammed into both of them.

"Coming?" Hermione called over her shoulder, her hair whipping around her as the wind blew harshly. The December air was freezing, and she tugged her scarf tight around her neck. Partly to hide the bruises on her neck, and partly to stay warm, she was constantly conscious of each time the fabric moved.

Draco snorted, no doubt thinking of just how many times the word had left her lips the previous night, only in a very  _different_  context. "Yeah, Granger. We're right behind you."

The three of them passed the trauma nurse that Malfoy had yelled at and she nodded to them.

Hermione said nothing as they stepped into the elevator, a cramped space with a family already inside. Placing herself against the wall, she ended up smashed up against Draco, and he took the chance to settle his hand at her waist when she nearly slipped. Swallowing, and her face red, she slid away from him.

On the sixth floor, Hermione walked ahead of them, knocking on the hospital door that was already ajar. "Hello?" She called quietly.

"Come in," Lucius called, and she couldn't push the door open quickly enough. He swept her into a hug, kissing her hair. "How long did the two of you sleep? I called over and over again."

"We were restless," she murmured, adjusting her scarf.

Her eyes landed on Narcissa while Lucius hugged his son. Sickly pale, she was hooked up to various machines, an I.V. in her arm as fluids were fed through it. Wrapping her arms around herself, the beeping of the machines threatened to get to her.

"It's not cancer." Lucius cleared his throat, his eyes already on her when she whirled to face him. "I know you must have been worried, but it's not. The tests came back this morning. They're keeping her for observation, but she'll be released in a few days."

Hermione took Narcissa's hand in her own, sliding her fingers through Narcissa's. "They're sure?" she ventured, her voice thick, and her gaze darting around the room.

"Fluid cyst," Lucius replied. "It could have been pre-cancerous, but they rushed the blood work. It's not. She'll be perfectly fine."

Hermione fell into the chair at the bedside, her eyes filling with tears while she nodded. "That's fantastic," she murmured. "I couldn't have done it all over again."

Lucius smiled. "Theo, Draco, will you go to the hospital cafeteria and bring up some food? Love, you look as pale as her," he told Hermione. "Have you eaten?"

Unconsciously, her eyes went to Draco. "No, I haven't. Just a bottle of water, and a sandwich would be great."

Draco nodded, and the door swung shut behind him and Theo.

* * *

"I came as soon as I heard," Theo said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm sick of this shite," he grumbled, grabbing Draco by the shoulder. "I don't want to fight with you, do you understand that? It's never been worth it."

Draco sighed. "Suppose not."

Theo looked down the hallway. "Now that she's not here, do you care to tell me what the fuck happened between the two of you?"

"Nothing happened. She loves my mum as much as I do. She was - Theo, she was fucking traumatized when she called for help. Fuck, if you had seen her..." Draco rubbed his temples, his stomach sinking at the memory.

"What happened?"

"Mum fainted while we were decorating the Christmas tree. She hit her head, and there was some blood. Not a lot, but Granger froze on the spot. I haven't talked to her about it, but I'm sure it's what happened to her mum."

Theo's eyes widened. "Shite."

Malfoy nodded. "I've been an arsehole to her, and to you. So listen closely, shithead because I won't repeat it again."

Theo roared with laughter. "That's a good way to start off."

Rolling his eyes, Draco punched him in the shoulder. "She's a good person, too fucking innocent, and I care more about her than I expected to."

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, Draco, but I think those feelings are mutual," Theo replied. "I'd date her in a heartbeat if she gave me a second glance, but I'm not interested in fighting you for her. Not if you're being honest."

He nodded. "Not too sure what I'll do about it, but I'm not lying."

Theo shrugged his shoulders. "She's a bloody great friend, and I'm fine with that. But if you fuck it up, if you hurt her, and I had a chance -"

"You'd take it," Draco finished. "Yeah, I'd do the same thing."

* * *

The day ended without either of them saying a word to the other. She knew it was for the best, that it wasn't wise to crawl into bed with someone she would live with until she returned home. So when she pulled him into the hallway to talk before she went downstairs to meet Pansy. "I just wanted to be sure you didn't feel awkward," Hermione said.

He shook his head, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Kind of pissed Theo interrupted us the second time." Malfoy laughed.

She sniggered. "Yeah, well, the day is over," Hermione replied, nodding to the clock that read ten minutes after midnight. "I don't want it to be awkward being around each other."

"We were both upset, it just happened." He murmured. "Do you want to keep it between us?"

Hermione nodded. "If you don't mind. I'm not ashamed of my choices, but I'd rather not have everyone talking about it." Though it was more like she didn't need everyone to notice how hung up she was on him, and how he was clearly fine.

"Except for Pansy," he smirked. "You can't tell me you aren't going to get in her car and tell her everything that happened."

"You're right. I definitely will tell her everything, but she wouldn't tell Harry. I saw that you and Theo are getting on well. Do you think you'll tell him? Not that I mind," she rushed to say, "I'd just like a fair warning if my study partner will know."

Malfoy shook his head. "No, I don't think he needs to know."

"I'm glad the two of you seem to have worked things out." Hermione said. "Can I ask what was wrong?"

He smirked, leaning against the wall. "You could ask me, but I wouldn't tell you. It's none of your business, Granger. I'll call you if anything changes."

Knowing what his lips tasted like, felt like against hers, only made it harder to walk away from him. "Sounds good. Pansy and I will come back tomorrow." Hermione hurried away from him, stepping into the elevator around the corner. Truthfully, calling Pansy had been her idea, though she passed it off as Pansy's.

If she didn't tell someone what had happened, she was positive she would burst. Pansy's SUV idled at the curb of the entrance, her checking her lipstick in the mirror. As Hermione climbed into the passenger seat, throwing her bag into the backseat so she could check if anyone else was in the car before she blurted it.

Pansy arched an eyebrow. "I came alone just like you asked. You look different. What's going on?"

"Different?"

"Yeah, you're -" she paused, tugging the scarf off her neck "- You're fucking glowing and I bet it's from whoever did  _that._ "

Hermione smiled weakly. "Pansy...you won't believe it."

"What happened since the last time I saw you?" Pansy asked, turning back to the mirror to fix her makeup. "You know what Harry asked me when I left? He asked me why I was getting dressed up." With a hard eye roll, she reached for the lipstick in the cupholder. "I thought we might grab dinner, and I didn't want to look like a troll."

Hermione cleared her throat. "I slept with Draco."

Pansy shrieked, her hand jerking as she painted the side of her chin with the lipstain. "What? How the fuck did that happen?"

Awkwardly trying to pass it off as not a big deal, Hermione said, "If you did that to the other side of your chin, you'd look like a puppet."

"Focus on the topic at hand, Granger," she muttered, throwing her lipstick in her bag and grabbing a napkin to rub it off her lips, a task that was not easily achieved. "So, fuck dinner. I want junk food, and I'm telling Harry to get the hell out of our flat for the night."

"He was upset when we left the hospital, and he was going to drink. He'd yanked a bottle of booze from the cupboard. I told him it was a bad way to cope, and he said and I quote, 'Well, I used to fuck Ginny when I had problems, but she had to get a boyfriend.' To which I responded, 'Would sex help you?' And then Draco said 'Are you offering?'"

"And then what?" Pansy asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. "That was fucking ballsy, Hermione, offering yourself up on a silver platter like that."

"It just came out of my mouth. I didn't plan for it."

"Okay, but then what happened?"

"Have you ever been pushed up against a wall, your hands pinned above your head, and snogged?"

"Oh. My. God." Pansy squealed, pulling away from the curb. "How many times?" she asked. "Don't think you can tell me you slept with Draco fucking Malfoy and not give me all the details. It would be a direct violation of the bond between two best friends."

Hermione snorted. "Three that night. He's insatiable, and apparently so am I, but I'm sore. Almost another time the next morning because we agreed it was just one day, it didn't have to change anything, and he mentioned how it was still the same day."

Pansy's mouth fell open as she merged into traffic. "So...you slept with him again?"

"Well," Hermione began, looking across the car. "Not exactly. I mean I did, but we didn't finish. Well, I did, but I'm getting off subject here." She waved her hands in frustration, her cheeks coloured with red while Pansy laughed. "Theo came to the manor to check on Draco, and yelled for us while he was still inside of me. Kind of killed the mood."

"Theo?"

"The one and only, but the good news is that it seems they're getting along again." Hermione said. Especially after they had come back with lunch. "Nothing has changed though. We agreed we wanted to ignore it."

Pansy nodded. "You're sure that's what you want?"

She shrugged. "There was sexual tension between us, probably because we fight so much. We were upset, and it happened."

"Then why does it sound like you're trying to convince yourself? You'll never have to justify yourself to me, Hermione. If you want it to be a one night stand, that's okay."

"That oddly makes me feel better."

Taking a turn and pulling into a convenience store, Pansy sat back fully in her seat. "My question is do you have any feelings for Malfoy that aren't just physical?"

Hermione looked down at her hands. "I might," she conceded. "But he doesn't. He more or less said as much when he asked me if I wanted to pretend it'd never happened."

Pansy shook her head, pulling the keys from the ignition. "Well, I don't believe that, but I understand. Now, can we please go get more food than we can eat?" She smiled.

It was one of the moments Hermione would look back and think of how she'd been so utterly foolish when it came to matters of the heart, and Draco Malfoy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You see that last line?
> 
> We just reached the halfway mark. We've got a long ride ahead of us, and it is about to get bumpy. Like next chapter bumpy. Since I won't be posting here again before Thanksgiving, please let me take a moment.
> 
> I hate the holidays. I always have, but I do want to say that I am incredibly thankful for each of my readers. I reached 800 subscribers to my account this week. Which is..unreal. Some of them are from before I came back, but I appreciate you for reading me, for supporting me, and for lifting me up on bad days
> 
> I come with a warning, but a very vague one because I'd hate to give a whole story away. If you hate me, I did my job right. This is endgame dramione, and it is HEA. I hope you'll bare with me. This story will wrap up around 150k. It's my biggest project to ever take on, and I hope you'll enjoy the emotional rollercoaster I'm about to start.
> 
> Last chapter was the most reviews I've ever received on a chapter ( fifty - two ), and I would be forever grateful if you would leave feedback for this. Whether it's for smut, for theories of what's happening, or because Draco Malfoy is fucking hot. Goodnight / Good Morning / Good Afternoon wherever you are!


	14. Bucket List # 9 - City of Romance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say, just happy I was able to update before the two week mark.

"Do you notice something off about the two of them?" Narcissa asked, her voice rising over the steady beeping of the machines on either side of her. As her husband hummed, clearly not listening, she rolled her eyes, and cleared her throat. "Lucius!"

He jumped on his side of the hospital bed, nearly knocking his forehead against hers. "What?"

"Draco and Hermione, don't you think something is different?"

Lucius shrugged, resting his hand under his head and propping himself up. "They've been through an ordeal, Cissy. Hermione was an absolute wreck when you fainted. I've never seen anything like it. I'm sure they only seem pleasant at the moment because they leaned on each other for support."

Tapping her nails against the railing of the bedside - the fingernail of her index finger was chipped from when she'd hit the floor - Narcissa wasn't convinced. "You can't believe that."

"Why not?" His eyes were bright, and he laughed under his breath. "I don't think anything has changed beyond bonding over you. They were becoming friends before. I think your scare might have been the catalyst in shoving them together."

Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "Tell me what you noticed while I was unconscious then."

"I spent all my time here, and Draco spent all of his time with Hermione. They wouldn't allow more than one visitor in at a time, and I offered to take his spot."

She nodded. "Yes, of course he would never let you do that. They were always together? It sounds like -"

"If you would let me finish a thought, you would already know." Lucius laughed, sliding his fingers through her hair. "A nurse let them use a spare room. I went to wake them so they could go home and sleep in real beds, and I found them cuddling. Spooning, if you want me to be honest."

Her eyes widened. "Well," she breathed, "that's certainly -"

He snorted. "Then I told the pair of them to sleep in separate beds," Lucius said, smirking. "So, I'm sure they did the exact opposite."

Narcissa nodded, threading her fingers through his and leaning into her husband. "The best course of action is for us to pretend we don't notice anything. They're both adults, they don't need their parents to steer them in the right direction in this case."

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "You called us Hermione's parents," he said grinning from ear to ear.

"Her second parents," she murmured, snuggling into him. "She's such a wonderful girl. I'm thrilled to have her in our lives. But I'll say this now - if Draco has a chance to make her my daughter in law, and fucks it up, I'll put him up for adoption."

The bed shook with laughter. "Language, Cissy."

She gasped, still giggling into his shoulder. "Can you imagine it? Twenty-three year old man for adoption - comes with attitude, price negotiable, no returns."

He laughed, wrapped an arm around her. "You are the worst."

She fell silent for a moment. "I'm sorry for scaring you all. I never thought...I never thought it would be something so serious."

He nodded, brushing her bangs from her face. "We should count our blessings it wasn't any more serious. You'll be home this time tomorrow."

Narcissa smiled. "Speaking of home, did you know the doctor says I'll be fit for travel in two weeks?" she asked with an air of nonchalance. "I think now is as good a time as any to discuss where we'll be taking our merry little family for Christmas."

Lucius sighed harshly. "While he might have said it was fine, boarding a plane for another country can't be the best course of action. We can spend this one in the manor, Narcissa. It's one year we spend at home, and it's better for your health."

Shaking her head, Narcissa mumbled into his shoulder before raising her head. Her eyes misty, she glanced toward the door to see it was still sealed. "Lucius, Hermione won't be here next year."

"Love," he began, his eyes drawing together. Of course they hadn't planned to make any sort of decision now, but it had been mentioned in the silence of their bedroom. "Hermione will probably be here next year. Even if she decides to not move here fully like you'd want her to, I'm sure she would visit."

Narcissa glared at him, her lip curling into a grimace. "That's a full year from now, Lucius. No, I want to go this year. My health, while not the best, will be fine for a trip. I want to go somewhere, and I want Hermione to choose where we travel."

He growled under his breath. "Stubborn bat," Lucius muttered.

Narcissa murmured that it would be wise to shut his mouth lest he want to lose his bollocks.

* * *

Everything is different.

Hindsight was a hell of a thing, Hermione thought as she sat at the dining table across from Draco. While his parents were due to be home any minute, it left them alone, and somehow they had come to sit across from each other. Malfoy set a steaming mug down in front of her, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He said nothing. She wasn't sure if she was relieved, or if she was disappointed he hadn't mentioned how they'd exploited an awful situation earlier in the week. And how dumb could she have been to believe that it wouldn't be awkward? She wasn't ashamed, she knew that much, and she fully stood by her actions. The pair of them were adults - consenting adults who shared a moment of weakness, and had used their bodies - she internally groaned - to make it through a tumultuous time.

God, she was an idiot.

Hermione sipped the hot chocolate, wincing as it scalded the tip of her tongue. "So," Hermione said, slapping her palms down on the table. "I haven't seen you since we went to the hospital, did you go back to classes?" She admittedly had avoided them since she wouldn't have been able to focus anyway.

He nodded, sliding his fingers through the handle of his cup and lifting it to his lips. Her eyes dropping to them - because she knew just how soft they were, against her own, against her thighs - Hermione realized she hadn't heard a word he'd said. Only his loud laugh brought her back out of her self indulgent, highly inappropriate fantasy. "Granger." He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Slughorn."

She blinked. "What about him?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "His damned party. He's bumping up the date before we leave, so do you have a date yet?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I thought I would just go alone. Pansy will be with Harry, so there's no one I would like to invite. Did Astoria harass you into inviting her?"

He snorted into his tea, the liquid coming right out of his nose and she fell into a fit of giggles. "That's a hard fuck no, Granger."

"I was just asking," she defended, putting her hands in the air. "She more or less cornered me in the library when I was with Theo because she thought you and I were attending together. Crazy bat insulted me when I said we weren't. ' _Of course not, Miss Granger. You are so below his standard._ '" She rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her breasts.

He smirked. "Tori said that?"

Hermione was absolutely positive he'd called the blonde with a screeching voice by a nickname just to drive Hermione batty. "It might not be a direct quote, but she aimed to get under my skin by implying that I was less than her."

Draco's smirk slipped from his face. "Yeah, she's a cunt. I have no qualms admitting I had a bit of fun with her a few years ago. Except now her father is declaring bankruptcy. She has an inane fantasy laid out where I fall in love with her, marry her, and then swoop in so her family is saved from a financial death."

Hermione stared at him, her eyebrows nearly shooting into her hair. Her mouth dry, she started, "That all sounds very dramatic. Perhaps she should build a career herself instead of relying on you to save them from financial ruin."

He chuckled. "I would pay you half of my inheritance to see you tell Astoria Greengrass to get a job."

The corner of her mouth lifted. "You can keep it. I would do it just for fun."

And then they fell into silence again. Beyond rain pelting against the glass double doors leading into a grand lawn outside, they sat in silence. She hummed to herself, tapping her fingers against the surface of the table once more. Anything to fill the awkward silence. Different scenarios went through her mind, of reaching across the table - perhaps crawling across it - and snogging him senseless.

They had at least half an hour. Snogging him would escalate quickly. She'd already learned that once. It was easy to remember how it felt for her skin to be sliding against hers, his fingers threaded in her hair, or how incredible he felt from -

" _Granger._ " Draco stressed her surname, and she glanced up from the mug she'd been staring at so intently. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she replied, her voice cracking. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to ignore you. I'm just -"

"Ignoring me?" he teased with a smirk. "It's fine. It has been a rough week, hasn't it?" Malfoy leaned back in his chair, the front two legs no longer pressed against the kitchen floor. "As I was attempting to say, Slughorn's party."

Her eyes widened, a perfect display of confusion as her lips parted. As his gaze dropped to her lips, her nerves in the pit of her stomach twisted. "I told you I was going alone, didn't I? I'm not sure what else there is to discuss."

"Are you truly this dense?" he muttered, looking away from her. "Tell me something, have you ever had a boyfriend?"

"One, or two," she lied easily. The answer was one, but she preferred not to look so inexperienced.

Taking the last drink from his mug, he set it down hard, her own drink rippling. "And to get your attention, what did they have to do? Pay someone to write a message for you in the bloody sky?"

Her laugh was loud, echoing around the room, and against the pans that hung over the island. "No, they asked me on a date. They were forward with me."

"I somehow find that hard to believe, considering you have not gotten my point yet." He paused, and sighed at her confusion. "I'm asking you to go to the damned party with me, Hermione."

In a display that almost certainly gave away her feelings, she squeaked.

"As friends," he rushed to correct. "It's not my intention to make this awkward."

She nodded at that. "Why would we?" Hermione asked. "It's bound to be awkward, Draco. You fucked me six ways from Sunday, and we can barely sit across from each other."

"It's not like we were great with conversation before," he pointed out. "Well, I've mentioned Astoria, haven't I? She's wrangled Theo into inviting her, and I would very much like to have some sort of date to avoid her antics."

"But wouldn't she be focused on Theo?" Hermione argued.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, I doubt that. He knows it just as well, but his deciding to go was last minute. He regrets agreeing now."

She laughed. "I bet he does. So, a fake date?"

"Right."

"Only to help you out."

"Of course," he murmured.

"No snogging though, or -"

"Oh?" His eyes were bright. "Are you about to tell me I can't go down on you in a stairwell? I was so looking forward to pushing your dress up, and dragging your knickers down your thighs with my teeth."

Her breathing was ragged, and he knew it. "You're only doing that to make me blush." Hermione snapped, a familiar warmth pooling in her lower belly.

"Perhaps to make you imagine it," he rasped. "So, you'll do it?"

"As long as 'it' is faking a date with you, and not just you...I suppose. As a friend," Hermione replied. She wondered just what she had gotten herself into, and if he was just as affected by her.

* * *

Narcissa flung herself into Hermione's arms the second she set her eyes on the young woman.

Hermione didn't mind a bit. Too overjoyed to see the woman up on her own again, Hermione wrapped her arms around her, careful not to squeeze. And while her run-ins with Draco were terribly awkward, everything else returned to normal.

Narcissa spent her mornings at the table in the kitchen, a new novel in her hand each day. Hermione liked to pretend that she  _didn't_ notice the books were volumes that belonged to Pansy's mother.

Hermione sat beside Malfoy in the car as if nothing between them had ever changed, but reality determined that to be a lie. They could pretend as much as they liked, but everytime he was near her, her heart threatened to beat faster than healthy. It was the little things that set her on edge. Like how he would hand her backpack over, and his fingers would  _mistakenly_  brush against her bare skin.

Content to ignore it, and especially because it was well within the realm of possibility that she was imagining it, Hermione gritted her teeth - well, she did in her head - and rolled her eyes, often.

"My mother wants to know where you would like to go for Christmas," Draco murmured as they stood in the corridor, his back pressed against the stone wall. There was a large bay window beside them, a layer of ice starting to freeze over the glass.

Her eyes widened. "I thought we were traveling?" Hermione asked, setting her backpack on the ledge. She really shouldn't have packed so many books into one bag, not with how her shoulder ached.

Draco snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "We are, but you need to pick a country."

She choked, a move that was not elegant, and he clapped her on the back. It knocked the breath out of her. "Fuck." She wheezed, blinking back tears. "You do realize I'm not Theo, don't you?"

A predatory gaze raked over her. "I assure you I have noticed that." Draco laughed. "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

She shook her head, glaring at him and rubbing her back. "It will probably bruise. Back to the matter at hand, surely you meant I needed to pick a city, not a country..?"

"No, I meant country."

"That's insane."

He shrugged, holding his hands up while they were still tucked in his pockets. "I'm not sure if this has escaped you," he whispered, leaning forward with a smug smirk planted on his face, "but we're fucking rich."

Hermione's laugh echoed throughout the hall, as did his loud groan when she mistakenly knocked her forehead against his. "Sorry." She sniggered, covering her mouth, muffling her giggles.

"Guess that makes us even." He growled, rubbing the sudden red mark on his forehead. "Where do you want to go?" Malfoy asked, and she fell silent. "Stop worrying about the money and -"

"I can't."

"I'll pick for you if you don't," he shot back, waving to Theo as he approached them. "Paris," Draco said softly, his expression unchanging as her head snapped up. As her eyes narrowed, he continued, "You told me you wanted to go once when I had just gotten back from there. Let me guess, you want to see the Eiffel Tower?"

She stared at the tops of her shoes, kicking them against the floor. "It's called the -"

"City of Love, yes I'm quite aware." He grinned. "I'll tell mother we're going to Paris then."

While it might have been dubbed the City of Love for years, of course there were exceptions.

* * *

Hermione flipped through the clothes on the rack while Pansy typed a reply to Harry. Her friend hadn't breathed a single word about her 'date' since leaving Malfoy Manor that morning, and she knew it was only a matter of time before Pansy threatened to combust.

"What do you think of this one?" Hermione asked, pulling a royal blue dress from the rack.

Holding it up to her chest, Pansy took each side of the dress, pressing it against where it would fall. "It's too poofy, I think," Pansy noted, taking it and putting it back. "Has Malfoy said what he's wearing?"

She shrugged. "He told me that he'd match whatever colour I chose," Hermione replied, thumbing through the dresses again. "I wish I could just wear jeans."

Pansy snorted. "Professor Slughorn would die if you showed up in denims and a jumper."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's the middle of winter. I will freeze in a dress, and all of these are either too frilly, or they have a neckline where I might as well pop my tits out anyway," she grumbled, finally losing her temper.

"Language!" an elderly woman emerging from the fitting room snapped, glaring at her. As she walked away, she muttered how young ladies shouldn't use such foul language.

Pansy held her stomach as she bent forward, sniggering. "We'll find something for you. Besides, dresses are more practical, don't you think? Just in case it gets hot and heavy in a stairwell, he can just -" Pansy made a motion of shoving her dress up to her hips.

"Oi, fuck off," Hermione growled. This was the exact reason she wouldn't tell her about Malfoy's comment of going down on her. A comment that instilled a graphic image at the forefront of her mind, and she'd entertained the thought of if it actually happening. "We are only going so he can avoid Astoria."

Pansy scoffed. "Maybe that's his excuse, but I don't believe that. It sounds exactly like the sort of rubbish excuse he'd drum up so you wouldn't question him. Why couldn't he take another girl?"

Hermione followed her into another section, one that had less frills. "Greengrass despises me," she said, catching a glimpse of herself in the full mirror mounted on the wall. Dressed in joggers and an Oxford sweatshirt, she looked out of place. "You know I don't like to think of as...more."

She sighed. "I wonder if you're hurting yourself by lying to yourself is all," Pansy murmured, rubbing her shoulder. "If you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?"

Hermione brushed her hair over her shoulder and started through dresses once more. "At least you'll always tell me, then."

Pansy let it go, a small frown dragging her lips downward. "I'm going to go through this store, and I'm going to come back with five options for you to try on. One of them will be a winner. Alright? Alright." She was gone before Hermione could even face her.

Her eyes darting around the store, Hermione let the fabric of the chiffon she'd been holding fall and she took the seat near the fitting room. She fiddled with her phone, checking text messages that weren't much of anything. Theo asked her if she'd be at the library that evening, to which she replied that she wouldn't be, but he could join them at the Leaky if he liked.

Before what she liked to call the Draco Malfoy incident - which was only falling into bed with him, multiple times - spending time around Theo could feel strained. Not often, she corrected herself, but she knew his feelings weren't only platonic. With the rift between the two men now gone, Theo was not acting as if he'd ever felt differently.

It made her wonder what was going through his head. As quick as she was, Hermione didn't like to admit she'd misjudged Malfoy. There was  _something_. It had been simmering like a pot left unattended, until it finally overflowed. All too quick to put the lid back on it, Hermione feared she was only delaying the inevitable.

It was tense when she was in the same room with him, the air feeling like it could be cut with a knife. She wasn't stupid - and it put her on edge. It felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop, and there was a familiar sensation of her stomach churning if she dwelled on it too long.

"Hermione?" Pansy said loudly, her eyes wide as she stared down at her from over the stack of dresses she held in her arms. The hangers clacking together, Hermione realized she must have called her name more than once. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, standing quickly and making her way into the dressing room. "I was lost in thought," Hermione said, but offered nothing more. "Get rid of the white one," Hermione said instantly, taking the other four. "If I wear that, I have no doubt Slughorn will mention a wedding, and I don't have the patience for that this week."

Pansy snorted. "Do you ever?"

"Not particularly," she said with a smile. The door closed behind her, and the lock clicked into place. Hanging each dress on the rack in the corner of the roomy space, Hermione tugged her shirt over her head. Letting her joggers pool at her feet, she reached for the blue dress first. At least Pansy knew her well enough to pick a colour she liked.

Unzipping the back and stepping into the dress, Hermione held it to her chest, turning slightly to see how it fit in the mirror. While the colour was rich, the fabric was itchy, and an instant no. Hermione hung it up once more. She went through the others quickly, leaving the yellow one on the rack as it would have made Draco's pale skin look sickly if she were beside him. In the end, she only showed Pansy one, the one she liked the most.

"That's the one," Pansy said with a grin as she stepped out of the room. "Not only because you didn't show me the others, but it looks the best."

"I like the lace," Hermione said, stepping onto the platform and peering over her shoulder to see the back of it. It was backless, showing her shoulder blades and dipped to the top of her bum. "I should send him a picture so he knew what to match -" she began, about to retrieve her phone.

Pansy's hand shot out to grip her by the elbow. "Wait, don't do that. Why don't you just tell him to match with red?"

Hermione's eyebrows raise. "You only want to see if he has a reaction to me in this dress," she accused.

Pansy smiled sheepishly. "Aren't you curious too?"

* * *

Hermione stood in the bathroom, her towel having fallen to her feet and the hair on her arms rising from the sudden cold draft. She wiped the mirror, the steam from the shower having fogged it up. Staring back at her was herself, only there were bags under her eyes. Still, she was sleeping easier than she had been a few weeks ago so there was that.

Pressing the button on the blowdryer, Hermione set to drying her hair. Running a brush through it as she did so, it was just her awful luck that Malfoy banged on the door. A yelp tore from her throat as she hit herself with the hard side of the brush. "What?" she snapped, double checking that the door was indeed locked.

"You're going to use all of the hot water." His voice was muffled from the other side.

Laughing to herself, it was exactly like the time before. "I'll be done in fifteen minutes," Hermione replied. The doorknob twisted. "It's locked, Malfoy."

There was a groan and then the sound of his bedroom door closing.

Hermione dried her hair, brushing it through once she was done. Not to her surprise, her naturally curly hair was frizzy, and she yanked the cupboard open to grab the bottle she rarely used. "If I have to be his bloody date, I'm not going to do it with a birds nest on top of my head," Hermione grumbled, smoothing her hair.

Bending to wrap her towel around her once more, Hermione made her way across the hall and into her own room. Crookshanks was blissfully curled up in front of a space heater, licking his paws. Hermione locked the door behind her before dressing. Pulling the red dress from the rack in the closet, she unzipped the back.

She might need help with the zipper later, but for now she stepped into the soft fabric, the slip underneath sliding against her legs. Barely holding it up by hunching her shoulders, Hermione sat in front of the vanity. Pansy had wanted to come over, doll her all up she said, but Hermione found she preferred minimal makeup.

Beyond covering blemishes, she wore mascara and a tiny bit of lipstick - which was only because she'd promised Pansy she would. There was no use in denying that it did look nice on her, drawing attention to her lips.

Grabbing her heels from the foot of the bed, she hobbled while stepping into them. "Shit," she muttered as she nearly lost her balance. Hermione rushed into the corridor, knocking on Draco's bedroom door.

He ripped it open, water dripping of the ends of his hair. "What?"

She glanced toward the open door of the bathroom. "You took a shower so quickly?"

He glared. "You haven't left me with much time. What do you need?"

"Oh," she said, dragging her eyes away from the sight of his bare chest. "Could you please zip me up?" Not leaving him much of a choice, Hermione turned, pulling her hair to the side again.

The pads of his fingers were warm as they slid against her bared skin, her shoulders tensing up as a draft rolled through the corridor. "Pretty dress," Draco rumbled behind her, pulling the zipper into place, and taking longer than he ought to.

Hermione let her hands fall to her sides, gnawing her lip as his breath fanned across her shoulder. "Thank you," said Hermione, adjusting the straps of the red number. "Glad you approve," she mumbled, turning to face him. The fabric sliding against her thighs, Hermione stepped away from the door. "I'll be downstairs whenever you're ready.

She might have stayed to talk to him if he hadn't been staring at her so hungrily. The memory of them discarding their clothes still so fresh in her mind, Hermione stumbled away. It wasn't only in her head, and that was the most terrifying thing of all.

* * *

After posing for what she considered to be an absurd amount of photographs, Narcissa had wrapped one arm around Hermione's neck, and one around Draco's.

Hermione had always known how close he was with his mother, but still there was something about seeing him drop a kiss to his mother's forehead that made the useless organ in her chest stutter.

Malfoy opened the door for her, walking around the car and sliding into the driver's seat without another word. Without saying a word as he drove into the appropriate lane, she stared out the window as he made their way to the university. It was only when she noticed the amount of cars in the parking lot, that she said anything at all.

"How bad do you think the rumors would be if we just skipped the party altogether?" She asked, wide eyed, and chewing her freshly painted nails. The varnish left a bitter taste in her mouth. "This is a ridiculous amount of people," she groaned.

He smirked, parking the car and turning to face her. Laying his arm across the back of her seat, he leaned forward. "It won't be as terrible as you think. Just stay close to me. If you want to stop talking to anyone -" he shrugged "- let me know."

She snorted. "What, am I meant to have some kind of sign to let you know? It's not as if I can just say 'please get me out of here,'" Hermione drawled, unclipping her seat belt and lacing her fingers together in her hands. "Fine. If I tug on my ear like so -"

He leaned forward without a warning, his fingers curving to cup the back of her head. So sure he was about to kiss her, her eyes drifted shut. Whether it was disappointment or relief that overwhelmed her when he whispered into her ear, it proved it would certainly be an interesting night.

"Astoria is right there. Turn your head toward me," he murmured, his eyes closed. "It will be fun, you know."

"And if I have a horrible time?" she argued softly, settling her palm on his cheek.  _For appearances, of course._  "What then?"

"I suppose I'll have to make it up to you then," he rasped.

Oh yes, that was exactly what she was afraid of.

* * *

The room Draco led her to was in a separate building from Slughorn's classroom, and it had been tastefully decorated for the Christmas season. There was an authentic tree at the front of the room, completed by white fairy lights, and green and silver ornaments. Hermione's hand fell from Draco's as she peered at the ceiling, her breath catching.

"I'll be right back," he said softly to her, but she barely noticed him leave her side.

She made her way to the front of the room, standing in front of a bookshelf that took up the entire north wall. Her mouth drying, she reached out to brush her fingers against the aged spines. It appeared to just have been dusted, and as she pulled one of the tomes from the shelf, the party behind her became muffled as she read of the founding of Oxford University.

"Hermione, dear!" Professor Slughorn shouted from directly behind her.

She shrieked, her grip loosening on the book before she managed to grab it. Unfortunately she'd placed her foot at an awkward angle and -

Malfoy was there, wrapping an arm around her waist while holding a whiskey glass and a wine glass by the stem. Uprighting her, he wore an infuriating smirk as if he did this all the time. "You alright?"

She nearly tugged on her ear right then. "Peachy," Hermione grumbled, taking the glass from him while she slid the book back into the empty space. "Professor Slughorn," she greeted, raising her glass as the red liquid sloshed around inside it.

He beamed at her. "Kingsley, this is Hermione Granger. She's a foreign exchange student this year. Aren't they precious?"

"Yes, she regularly falls for me," Malfoy said, snorting as she hit him in the stomach. "If you'll excuse us," he murmured, leading her away by placing his hand at the small of her back. "That was the Prime Minister you walloped me in front of."

Her head whipped around. Sure, he had been dressed in a well tailored suit that screamed status, but still. Hermione followed him through the small crowds of people until they came across Harry and Pansy. "Oh, thank God," Hermione muttered, standing at her friend's side. "Is it always like this?"

Harry shrugged. "Last year someone coerced Slughorn into a drinking contest," he replied, tipping a glass to his lips. "In hindsight, an open bar was probably a bad idea. Especially with this bloke around." He laughed, knocking shoulders with Malfoy. "Paid the bartender extra so he wouldn't cut Slughorn off when he'd had enough."

Hermione gaped at Malfoy. "That's  _terrible._ " She sniggered.

Pansy sipped her drink. "Have you seen what Astoria is wearing?" She tugged Hermione down to whisper in her ear. "Looks like a harlot if you ask me."

Hermione laughed. "I didn't."

Her friend rolled her eyes, brushing her bangs from her face. "Should have. You've been too distracted, but she's been watching the two of you all night. She's waiting to sink her claws into Malfoy."

"Poor Theo," Hermione replied, clinking her glass against Pansy's as Malfoy walked away with Harry. "It must be so irritating to have brought her when she's ignoring her own date."

Pansy shook her head. "Oh, no, he's not upset. Seems like he's trying to get rid of her, but it hasn't worked so far. She's probably thinking there's a better chance of cornering Draco if she's with Theo."

Hermione nodded. The two of them sat together at the table, observing the crowd while waiting for their dates to return. And she was just beginning to nod off when Pansy shoved her roughly. "What the fuck?" Hermione hissed.

"Tori is following Draco," she growled, nodding her head toward the other side of the room. Hermione followed the movement, seeing a familiar flash of blond hair as the girl trailed behind him. "He didn't even notice." Pansy smacked her palm against her forehead. "Truly dating or not, I wouldn't let her - okay, you're already going. Punch her in the nose!" Pansy called.

Until it suddenly dawned on her. "Right." Pansy scrambled to her feet, her heels clicking against the tile. "I'm coming as well. I'll kick her arse up and down the corridor."

"You're pissed," Hermione scolded, looping her arm through Pansy's as she led her from the room. Though she wasn't wrong. Astoria had a hell of a lot of nerve. She pushed open the door Malfoy had just gone through, only to find Theo and Harry leaned against the wall. "Where is he?"

Theo pointed to the classroom on his right. "He just yelled for her to get the fuck out. Not sure how well that's going for him at the moment."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Right." She pushed Pansy into Harry's side before throwing the door open. The outline of their figures were all she could see through the frosted glass. That and the golden nameplate that read  _Gilderoy Lockhart._

The door slammed shut behind her as she took in the sight of Astoria attempting to snuggle up to Malfoy. His lips were pressed into a flat line, his hands gripping the woman's shoulders as he tried to push her backward. "Hermione," he said, his voice thick.

Astoria's head turned, her glare landing on her. "Oh, I hope you don't mind I've stolen your date for a few moments."

That was it, Hermione swore in her mind as she calmly walked toward Malfoy. "How adorable that you think you've stolen him at all." She sneered, her lip curling in such a way that even Malfoy would have been proud. Pushing past the blonde, she laid a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I've been looking for you. You said if the party was awful, which it has been, that you'd make it up to me," Hermione said clearly.

Pretending Astoria wasn't even in the room must have been the best part of the situation, though the way his eyes dropped to her lips was a close second. "What did you have in mind, love?"

The endearment caused a shiver to unfurl on her spine as she wrapped her fingers around his tie. Another nail in the coffin to be sure, she murmured, "Did you mention something about going down on me in a corridor?"

Astoria squawked, a loud, "Disgusting!" that anyone outside the room would have heard.

His eyes widened playfully, and he took her by the waist. "Well," Draco drawled, glancing behind them, "it's no corridor, but Lockhart's desk is sturdy," Draco said, lifting her onto the surface, stepping between her thighs as he tilted her face up with his knuckle.

Astoria stormed toward the door, seemingly having been frozen. Hermione called after her, her tone a higher, mocking lilt, "Oh, Tori, do be a dear and lock the door on your way out!"

The glass rattled with how roughly she threw it closed.

Malfoy chuckled, still poised with his hands flat on the desk on either side of her. "That was bloody brilliant. I could snog you for it."

She peered up at him, tilting her head to the side. Threading her fingers into his hair, her nails lightly scraping against the skin of his neck, Hermione leaned up to press her lips to his. "Well, if we're to keep up appearances we will need to be here for a while."

He laughed, taking her wrists in his hands and pinning them to the desk while his lips slid against hers. "Oh, yes, we're only here to keep up appearances, Granger," he spoke below her ear, his tongue tracing a sensitive spot as he nipped the skin.

She sighed, relaxing against him. "I think it's more a case of we can't get enough of each other," Hermione replied, wrapping her legs around his waist. "And you did say you'd make it up to me."

"The party couldn't have been that bad," he murmured, sliding her dress up her thighs. "I wasn't gone long."

"Too long." She shrugged. "It was boring without you around to entertain me if you'd really like to know," Hermione replied, lifting her head as his fingers danced along the strap of her dress. "Draco?"

He'd stepped away from her, causing her to drop in the fear that he was well and truly done with whatever game they were playing with the other. Malfoy made his way to the door, twisting the lock. "Oh, don't pout at me, Granger. I knew she didn't lock the door, and I'd rather not have Professor Lockhart walk in on what we're about to do." He smirked, settling in between her thighs again and pulling the pin from hair.

It tumbled - not elegantly, her hair was much too unruly for that - to her shoulders, and he sank his fingers into it. Hermione whimpered, sliding her palms up the front of his suit, her fingers flitting around the windsor knot that she'd watched him tie.  _A sight that was too attractive in it's own right._ "What are we about to do?" Hermione teased, palming him through his trousers.

A hiss escaped him, his eyes narrowing as he pushed the straps of her dress down. "Any preferences, Granger?" he growled, dropping kisses to the tops of her breasts.

"Hermione, remember?" she corrected. "Well, you've mentioned going down on me an awful lot." Hermione grinned, leaning into him as he unzipped her dress. "I think it's you who has the preference.

His eyes flashes as they landed on her. "I do," he murmured, pushing the fabric to her hips. Draco hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers, sliding them down her legs. Tossing them into a corner with a smug smirk, he muttered, "Keep the heels on, would you?"

Her head fell back as she shook with laughter. "If that's your  _preference._ "

His thumb sliding against the sensitive bundle of nerves, Draco smirked up at her as he knelt between her legs. "Oh, it is," he murmured, kissing up the inside of her thigh. "Do you have a preference, Hermione?"

"For you to not talk so damned much - that's my preference," she growled, gripping fine strands of hair in her fist.

He snorted, placing his palm at the bottom of her belly, pressing her to lean backwards. Sat atop the the desk - a  _professor's_ desk no less! - with her legs spread, Hermione whimpered as he licked her clit

Draco gripped her thighs, and she was positive he was smirking as she shook against him. "Draco!" she whined, her head falling backward. " _There,_ " Hermione panted as two fingers slid into her, curling against her walls.

"Quiet," he hissed, staring up at her. "Lest you want to get us caught shagging on the faculty furniture"

"We aren't -" she argued, a smile blossoming of her face even though it really wasn't the time, or place for an argument just for the sake of having one.

He rolled his eyes, his fingers thrusting into her roughly as if to shut her mouth.

It worked. "Not yet," he murmured. Just as his tongue slid between her folds, there was a loud knock on the door.

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the banging, and her head snapped up to see a shadow on the other side of the opaque glass. "Draco," Theo called, "Professor Lockhart is headed this way with a bird on his arm, so I'd suggest you get out of there while you have the chance."

Draco growled under his breath. "Fucking Theo interrupting us."

Stifling a laugh with the back of her hand, she pulled her straps back onto her shoulders. "We should hurry before Lockhart storms in to see -"

He cut her off, rising to his feet to kiss her roughly, his fingers still pounding into her cunt. He greedily swallowed the soft whimpers for himself, rubbing her clit with his thumb. And with a low, "Come for me, Granger," murmured against her lips -

She was gone, clutching his shoulders and gasping for air. His name was on her tongue, a quiet, weak sound that sounded too much like a prayer.

* * *

They hadn't spoken much following their mad dash out of Professor Lockhart's office. Theo had led the eccentric professor down the corridor to give them just enough time to escape. They'd spoken twice after that, though they shared their fair share of secretive looks throughout the party.

Once had been as she smoothed down her dress - there was nothing she could do about the bloody red tinge in her cheeks - and it was for her to clear her throat and gently remind him that it was  _Hermione._ To which he replied, " _It's always Granger, Granger."_

And then another time was only to put on a show for Astoria Greengrass. The little witch stood in a corner, a cocktail in her hand while an equally stunning blonde stood at her side. Hermione learned it was her sister Daphne, and that Daphne happened to think her younger sister was a bumbling idiot.

Malfoy's words.

The two days following the party, it seemed that they had taken two steps backward. Once again they found themselves suspended in awkwardness. Between him walking in on her fresh out of the shower, with a towel not yet wrapped around her, and her entering his room without knocking, his cock in his hand, she was frustrated.

She wondered if this was going to continue happening, if they would keep crashing into one another, and then avoid each other after. Surely it wasn't the best way to handle things, but she told herself after Christmas she would ask him. Not that she wanted to have a tension riddled conversation titled is-this-a-relationship-or?

Hermione knew herself well enough to know saying after Christmas would inevitably snowball into  _after the New Year._ Yet, ringing in the new year was sure to bring herself a sense of anxiety. A new year only meant six months until she returned home, and really, she wasn't ready to think about that yet.

Though she  _could_  focus on Paris, and the fact that she was staring out over a city that she found too gorgeous to describe. Words could not adequately describe watching a sunrise from the balcony of the hotel suite. Oranges and reds streaked across the sky as if a painter had dragged their brush across the dense space.

There was a knock on the other side of her door, followed by Lucius's voice "Are you decent?" he called.

There was a joke to be made, but she only called out for him to come in. "Good morning." He yawned. It was a sort of rare occasion to see him out of a three piece suit. Rather he wore silk pajamas, his hair disheveled, and his cheeks were red.

Hermione decided to skip over that last part. "Morning," she murmured, watching the steam from her mug rise. "Did you sleep well?"

He rested his hands on the railing, giving her a sideways glance. "I barely slept at all. Narcissa was working on last minute shopping, and she locked up her credit card." He snorted. "So she took mine, and it was flagged for fraudulent activity. I don't shop nearly as much as she does."

Her nose crinkled as she laughed. "Christmas is tomorrow. What could she be buying now?"

He shrugged. "I didn't think it was safe to ask to be honest with you. That's not why I came to talk to you, though."

"What is it?" she asked.

Lucius sighed. "I know I was planning to take you to lunch - which I would still like to; we haven't spent enough time together as of late - but I've had a work related obligation pop up." His face crumbled as he said it, and he pinched the bridge of his nose

She waved it off with a genuine smile. "Don't worry about that. There is always when we're home again."

He paused. "I still want you to see the Eiffel Tower on Christmas Eve. It's simply breathtaking and you would just love it.'

Hermione nodded. "I'll still go."

He shook his head. "Draco is going to take you tonight."

Her mouth dried, but she said nothing. It's not as if he would have any idea why prolonged periods of time alone was awkward. So she smiled, and nodded, thinking it would just be another awkward hour amongst several others.

* * *

After spending so much time around the city in the days prior - visiting the Louvre was her favorite - Hermione was happy to spend some downtime in her bed until it was time for them to leave. With Lucius on a conference call, and Narcissa going for the ninth round with a customer sales representative while clutching not one, but two plastic cards, they made a quiet exit.

The freezing air whipped around her as she followed him out of the elevator. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her wool coat, her teeth chattered as he led her to the edge. Glancing out, witnessing how night had fallen on the city and tiny snowflakes began to fall, she looked up at him.

He  _had_  been looking at her - that much she was sure of - but he'd torn his gaze away from her. "Is it everything you thought it would be?" His voice was soft.

Leaning forward and holding her hand out to catch the snow, she nodded. "It's better than I thought it would be." Hermione watched her shallow breaths wisp in front of her, the wind carrying the short puffs away. "Have you been up here before?"

He nodded, placing his gloved hands on the railing as he leaned over it. "Yeah," he replied, stretching his fingers, curling and uncurling them.

It felt as if they were standing on the precipice of something. She didn't look at him, choosing instead to stare at the city. "What do you think they're fighting about?" Hermione murmured, sliding closer to him so he could follow her finger. She pointed below them, down at the base of the tower, there was a couple arguing.

While they were only specks to her, Hermione thought the man's face was red. Whether from the cold front, or screaming, she wasn't sure. It was clear they were yelling at one another from the crowd of onlookers gathering around them.

Draco chuckled beside her. "Nosy, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's better than talking about the weather, isn't it?" Hermione asked, resting her arms on the icy railing. "Oh!" she exclaimed, pointing again as another woman came into view. "Do you think he cheated on her?"

Hermione's attention was held more by the man beside her than the entertainment below. "I think -" he squinted "- well, we're too far up to tell, but she threw something at him. I think it was a ring. I'd imagine you're right."

Hermione returned to the lights lit up all over the city. "I wonder how someone can choose to lie like that - if that is the case. It's not as if we know them, so I suppose we can't really say if he's a cheating bastard."

He nodded. "Maybe he thought there would be a good time to tell her," Malfoy murmured. "Do you think it could have started as nothing, and it spiraled out of control?"

Her eyes widened before narrowing. "While I don't think there is a best time to admit you've lied to someone you care about, the earlier the better I say," Hermione replied. "Are you referring to a personal experience?"

He sucked in a breath. "I have never cheated on anyone if that's what you're asking, Granger." Draco spoke through gritted teeth. "I've never been a relationship," he admitted.

Her head tilting to the side, Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Astoria?"

He laughed, a dark sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "I didn't want to date her, and I should have never touched her from the start."

Reality crashed down on her. Hermione made a small sound, a squeak, that she played off as surprise from nearly falling. "Theo wanted her, didn't he?" she asked so quietly that he could have ignored it if he liked, and she wouldn't have had the nerve to repeat it.

Instead his head snapped up, his eyes narrowing on her. A breath lodged in her throat, she couldn't find the words to say anything at all. "Fucking Pansy," he hissed.

Hermione swallowed. "Not that it's any of my business, and I know it's not, but can I ask why? Why would you do that? He must be the closest friend you've ever had."

He raked his fingers through his hair, brushing crisp snowflakes from the blond strands. "Because I'm a bastard who wanted to prove he could.," Draco finally said, not willing to look at her. "There was a party, and I was drunk. It was a fucking bet, and I didn't want to lose face."

She knew what she must have been looking at him as if he was a disappointment. "Did she ever want to be with him?" Hermione asked, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You did a terrible thing, you definitely did, but I think Theo knows the blame is partially on Astoria's shoulders."

"She might have been interested, but I charmed her into bed. So it wasn't like it mattered for shite," he growled, brushing her hand away. "Don't give me a look like you pity me."

She snorted. "Oh, I don't pity you at all, Malfoy. What did you win for the bet?"

Casting a glare her way, he murmured, "A hundred pounds."

"All to prove that you were better than your friend," she whispered, more surprised than anything else. "That was selfish. Did Theo forgive you?"

"Yeah, he said it was water under the bridge. That she probably wasn't worth it if she would ditch him so quickly. I mean, she wouldn't have -"

Hermione shook her head. "Let it go. If he's forgiven you, you don't have to explain yourself to me." She pulled the knit beanie over her ears, and over her curls again. "I think we have to leave soon," Hermione said as other people began to leave. "How long can we stay up here?"

"Twenty minutes," he replied. "How has your year here been so far?" Draco turned to face her, reaching out to twist a curl around his finger. "I don't think I've ever asked you."

Adjusting her hat  _again_ , just so she would have something to hide that her fingers slightly trembled, Hermione nodded. "It's the chance of a lifetime. I can't imagine my life without the friends I've made here."

He smirked. "I can't imagine not having you here to be a constant thorn in my side," Draco said.

Taking the mirth in his eyes as a cue that this was her chance to tease him, Hermione put her hands on her hips. "I just so happen to think that you like having me around. I keep things interesting."

"Yes, one mugger at a time."

She rolled her eyes. "It was only one time. You can let it go. I'm sure there were will be more moments like that."

"Undoubtedly." He laughed, and then he was staring at her as he had that night in the kitchen. As a bottle of liquor shattered against the tile - he was drinking in the sight of her, his eyes hungrily flicking toward the pale pink bow of her lips. "Hermione..." he trailed off.

She didn't say a word. Too worried she might break whatever spell this was, and too curious to see if kissing him felt like fireworks still - as it had the first night, and in a darkened office of the university - she leaned forward. Draco's hands found her hips, gripping them and tugging her into the curve of him.

A loud shout - an employee calling that they were closing for the night - made them break apart. Hermione's forehead connected with his jaw before she slipped on a miniscule patch of ice. Giggling at their luck, she checked the back of her head for blood where it'd connected with the solid surface.

"Are you okay?" she asked, scrambling to her knees as she put a hand on the railing to help herself up. His wallet had landed at her feet. The leather bifold was flipped open, a small piece of paper having falling out of it.

"My pride is a bit bruised," he admitted, climbing to his feet, but not looking at her.

It was wrong to pry, Hermione thought. "Poor baby." She laughed, grabbing the wallet. She wouldn't have opened the piece of paper -  _honestly_ \- but familiar words in familiar writing bled through the back of the paper. A result of the snow, she knew. Unfolding it before she even realized what she was doing, but her heart was pounding in her chest, she murmured, "Visit the London Eye."

"What are you on about? You've already done that," Malfoy said, brushing dirt off his arse. "Granger?" His eyes must have landed on her, on the bifold that slipped from her hands, and the paper that shook in her hands. "Fuck."

"Fuck, indeed," she breathed. "What possible reason do you have to keep a copy of this in your wallet? When did you take it?" she snapped, her chest rising and falling. "Malfoy -"

He shook his head, putting his hands in front of him. "I didn't take it from you. My mother had it, and she asked me to take you to the London Eye for your birthday. I told Theo about it; it's how he knew. He wanted to make a good impression because he fancied you."

Hermione stared at him as the events that followed her birthday fell into place. "And what? You wanted to outdo him when you took me for a tattoo? Or when you picked me up from the library the first time? On a  _goddamned motorcycle?_ " she growled, turning away from him. "You must have laughed about it the entire fucking time."

His eyes widened, the first look of regret he'd had so far, but she couldn't say she cared. "It wasn't like that. It started out as me wanting to get back at Theo for taking the idea and then I got to know you."

"I don't give a fuck," she said over her shoulder. "You wanted to outdo him again, Draco? Just to prove that you could? You lied to me. From holding my hand while I got a tattoo, to knowing I wanted to ice skate, to bloody taking me to Abbey Road - that was for my mother, you selfish prick!"

"Hermione -"

"Don't  _Hermione_  me." She seethed, tearing the list into pieces. "You let me -" she broke off, tears welling up in her eyes. It wasn't worth yelling of how he'd paved the way for her to fall for him. It wasn't worth any more humiliation than she already felt. "I don't care what it became, Malfoy. I care that you lied to me, and that you let me ever think of you as someone I could trust."

He stiffened. "This wasn't what happened with Astoria," he said weakly.

Hermione knew if she met his eyes that she would be done for. They were be filled with regret, and she would ultimately cave. "Isn't it?" Her voice broke as she stared at her shoes, a teardrop sliding down her face. "Your best friend fancies me like he fancied Astoria, and you got me into bed just like you did with her."

"It's not -"

She looked up, glaring at him. "You know what, Malfoy? From the first minute I met you in that airport, I thought you were a bastard, but I was naive to think ' _oh, he must have a good side. It's just buried deep.'_  I was fucking wrong," Hermione hissed, shoving the shredding bits of paper into her pocket. "You are an awful friend to Theo. He deserves a hell of a lot better than you, and quite frankly, so do I." She stormed past him, wrenching her arm free when he tried to catch her.

"Hermione!" he called out, but she stepped into the elevator.

She didn't let herself break into tears until the doors slid shut and he was left at the top of the Eiffel Tower. City of Romance, her arse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a total and complete lie. I have a lot to say, I just didn't want you to skip to the bottom and spoil yourselves. Thank you's to Courting Insanity to being my editor and friend, and for stopping me from chucking my outline out the window multiple times. To the Enabling Squad who reassures my daily that I know what I'm doing. And to absolutely anyone who ever had to listen to me whine about my fear of posting this chapter. 
> 
> To the reviewer who reviewed, but I now cannot find it. You said how Hermione would not be happy about Draco having a copy of the list - you right. 
> 
> I don't respond to PM's much here unless I get one. If you have questions about this chapter (I feel like there might be some) feel free to contact me in facebook groups, or send an ask to my tumblr - mrsren96. If you don't have tumblr, you can also submit as a guest. 
> 
> Also review if you're so inclined. Until next time!


	15. The Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penned this in the last two days in between my fests, and CourtingInsanity edited it this morning. My fucking hero. This chapter brought to you by overactive imagination, Panic! At the Disco, and Villain of the Story. If you also follow Hogwarts: Summer Camp, an update will be up in the next few days. It's written, just needing editing.

 

* * *

Storming away from him felt like the right thing to do at the time, but she was in the middle of Paris - a city she didn't know - and she was miles from the hotel.  _Kilometres_ , a miniscule section of her brain corrected, and she muttered, "get fucked," under her breath.

It was not the best of times like it was meant to be, and with each step, she did want to turn around. Maybe it was best to hear him out; maybe he had a reason for lying to her, and maybe it was only because she wanted to believe he wouldn't lie to her. Her mind was tugged in a different direction than her heart, and really, there was only one thing to do. As Hermione slid into a cab, she pulled her phone from her pocket. Upon telling the driver to please take her to her hotel, she melted into the leather seats and scrolled to Pansy's name.

Pressing the key, lowering the volume in hopes she wouldn't irritate the cab driver, Hermione covered her mouth to muffle the already loud sobs that shook her body. At the last second, as the call would have connected, Hermione smashed the red button.

"Was it your boyfriend?" the taxi driver asked softly, peering up at her in the rearview mirror. His eyes were a familiar chocolate colour that reminded her of her late mother, it seemed to cause more damage than it should.

She nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of the sleeves. "Or something like that," Hermione replied, lacing her fingers together. Her phone vibrating in her lap, Pansy's name flashing across the screen, she rejected the call.

"Ah." He nodded, driving with one hand on the wheel as he slowly veered to the left. "The ones who are just something are always the worst, aren't they?" he mused. "I have a daughter about your age."

Hermione choked on her laugh, dragging both hands through her knotted curls. "I'm assuming you've dealt with this before then?"

"Oh." He chuckled, turning to look back at her, the slow curve of his smile making her heart unclench. "Marie has awful taste in boys. Not sure where she got it from, but yes. If you're anything like my daughter, you won't believe me, but for what it's worth, fuck him."

Hermione snorted. "I beg your pardon?"

His laughter was infectious and she could hardly contain the giggle that left her. "Not literally, assuming that might be why you're in this mess."

Hanging her head, Hermione leaned on the console to get a better look at him. "Since you're a stranger, and I have no interest in admitting this to anyone yet - partly, but he lied to me. My dad said I had to learn things the hard way."

"Was he right?" The middle-aged man looked over at her, his moustache rising as he grinned. His golden wedding band gleamed beneath the lights that bled into the car. "From your silence, it sounds like he was."

Begrudgingly, she replied, "He was always right and it drove me batty."

"You should call him, see what he'd say." The driver said, his eyes bright as he had no idea what she would give to do just that.

Hermione elected to keep it to herself; this kind stranger didn't need to hear the grittier parts of her life. Not to mention she wasn't ready to be stared upon with looks of pity for the moment. Instead, she swallowed, resting her chin on her knuckles as he took the exit toward her hotel. "He would have asked me if I thought I could forgive him, and I would have said I could."

"Sounds like you have an answer to me."

She shook her head, wiping her eyes. "Then knowing how easily I forgive, he would've asked me if I should forgive him, and he would have validated my worries. That perhaps he would lie to me about larger things, or that there already were other lies layered with the ones I've just uncovered."

The corner of his mouth ticked, and he gave a single nod. "Should you?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "That's the question, but I'm sorry you have to drive a crying girl around," she muttered to the driver, who just smiled back at her. "This happens often?"

He seemed just as willing to fill the silence with awkward small talk, and at least it took her mind off the present. "More than I like," he replied, handing her a piece of candy. "American?" he guessed.

Hermione mumbled. "Yes, just visiting England for the term actually. I suppose it'd be too much to hope I return with a better accent, isn't it?"

He chuckled. "Well, I'm sure they'll think you have a British accent." He pulled into the drive of the hotel, parking right in front of the door. "Free this time," he told her, handing her card back to her. "Buy yourself a drink instead."

"Thank you," she hurried to say before stepping out of the taxi.

"Kid!" he hollered, and Hermione nearly slipped off the ice-crusted curb. "Take this too," he told her, slapping a crisp bill into her hand. "You look like hell, so you'd better make that two drinks." He winked at her, giving her a final wave as she spluttered a thank you.

She looked around, half afraid she would see Draco walking toward her, or even his parents. Not that she could see it, but she knew her eyes were bloodshot, likely still brimming with tears. Hermione crumbled the bill in her hand and squeezed her phone as it vibrated in her hand. Expecting a call from Pansy, she thought she should answer - she could claim it was a pocket dial.

"Hello?" she answered, wiping her eyes, and her nose. "Pansy?"

"Not Pansy," came his raspy voice, and her heart stopped in her chest. "Hermione —"

Malfoy couldn't see how she shook her head in disbelief or the way her eyes filled with tears at the sound of his voice. "Please don't talk to me, Malfoy," Hermione said, her voice low as a couple passed her. "You are the last person I want to talk to."

He sighed; Hermione could imagine how he would be pinching the bridge of his nose as he always did when he was exasperated with her. "You don't have to talk to me —"

"You think I don't fucking know that?" she snapped, glaring at a man who stared at her, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"Of course you know that, you swotty bitch. If you'd listen to me —"

"Calling me a bitch is not the way to convince me to listen to you, Malfoy. Not only does it not help your cause, but it also hurts my fucking feelings."

There was a sharp intake of breath across the line that cut through the static. "I'm so fucking sorry."

It would have been easy to say it was fine, but she didn't. Hermione loathed crying - she'd done that enough in the past year to last her the rest of her life - but hearing a genuine apology from him made it all the worse. Malfoy wasn't talking about calling her a bitch anymore. Her voice trembled as she replied, "That's not enough."

There was a moment where neither of them spoke, and she wasn't sure either of them were breathing. "Happy Christmas," Draco murmured in her ear. "I won't - you won't have to see me tonight. Not that you have to anyway, but what I mean to say is I won't be there."

"Your mother will have your head on a pike if you aren't here to open presents, Draco." There was something different in using the other's first name. Hadn't it always been that way? For him to Malfoy, and her to be Granger it meant they were taking steps back. Idly, she thought that there were no steps when they had tossed the board in the trash.

"I'll be there, but I'm afraid I don't trust myself around you at the moment."

She snorted. "You'd never get in my door."

There was a faint chuckle. "You'd probably hit me again."

"Undoubtedly." It was too easy to talk to him, she knew. "I would prefer Lucius and Narcissa know nothing about this," Hermione said, glancing down to see snowflakes seeping into her hair.

He murmured in agreement. Then, "Where do you want to go from here?" There was a note of hope in those words, in the teasing lilt of his voice when there was nothing to tease her for.

Hermione swallowed, her hand curling into a fist at her side. "There's nowhere to go, Malfoy. I'm not interested in whatever this was. We should have never slept together." She ended the call before he could say anything.

Her resolve was too weak at the moment.

* * *

It struck her later as she sat in the middle of the four poster bed - the Malfoy family didn't do anything by halves - that she hadn't returned his Happy Christmas. Perhaps it was the wine she'd drunk - three-quarters of the pretty bottle of Moscato - or her own traitorous feelings that made her pick up her phone. Knowing it was far more likely to be a combination of both, Hermione typed out the message, painstakingly slow as her fingers wouldn't go where she wanted them to.

Giving up, she smashed send and dropped the device onto the bed. She'd long since given up using the wine glass the barman had given her, rather drinking from the bottle. The entire fiasco would have been entertaining if she hadn't been sobbing for most of the night. A point she found ridiculous because the man didn't have that much of a hold over her surely.

Hermione had forgone the idea of just having a drink at the hotel bar, or even two. Instead, she made the rash decision to buy a bottle of wine instead. The moment being defined by the fact that Narcissa always drank wine, and that it must have been good, Hermione admitted she had never tried it.

Finding the correct one was a task. All she had to go off of was that it was red, and had a pretty label. The bartender must have thought she was a blasted idiot, but nonetheless, he swiped her credit card and handed her the bottle.

Hermione lifted the bottle, glaring at it. "You're the most goddamned expensive thing I've bought here," she grumbled, tipping the spout to her mouth. Imagine her surprise when she glanced down to see the three digit number stamped across the receipt.

Her phone vibrated, and she cringed as she saw the message she'd actually sent.

_HaPpy Chitsmas_

"Oh, my fucking God," she hissed, glancing at the reply.

_Are you drunk, Granger?_

In hindsight, drinking had not been her best idea. Now that he was all she could focus on, not to mention it had caused her to text him in the first place. It was a clear image of the smirk that would cross his face or the way he would arch an eyebrow at her antics.

 _I didn't think wine would get me drunk._  It was what she meant to send at least - she wouldn't know until the morning if she'd actually succeeded with basic spelling and grammar.  _Where are you?_

_Have you ever had wine before? His first message came in as she sends the second. He was laughing at her. I'm in a pub, doing the same thing as you._

_No, I haven't. Normally I would say booze isn't the way to solve your problems, but that would make me a hypocrite._

_That's a big word for someone who's drunk. Nevermind that you couldn't spell it correctly. How much have you drunk?_

She sent a picture of the nearly empty bottle.  _Too fucking much._

_You're going to have the worst headache of your life in the morning, you idiot._

_Charming as ever._ His response was delayed, but Hermione was too drunk to worry about it.  _I'm sorry I started this after I said I didn't want to talk. I just remembered I never told you Happy Christmas. I'll go to sleep._

 _Drunk words are sober thoughts,_ he sent.  _Goodnight, Hermione. Take aspirin in the morning._  
  
Hermione groaned when she woke to knock on the door, and slowly dragged herself from the bed. The sun was up, that much she was sure from the muted light shining against the dark drapes. A bit wobbly on her feet, Hermione opened the door.

"Hermione?" Narcissa asked, her brows furrowing together. "Have you been drinking, love?" The woman pressed past her, still clad in her pyjamas with a silk robe wrapped around her. Narcissa scooped the empty bottle from the side of Hermione's bed, staring at her, worry twisting her features. "Is there anything you would like to tell me?"

Hermione shook her head, holding the back of her neck. "It was a rough night," she admitted quietly, clutching her head when Narcissa dumped the glass bottle into the trash and it rattled.

"I'll say." Narcissa snorted, making her way to the bathroom. She emerged with two pills, placing them in Hermione's hand. "I have some water in my suite you can drink. It's time for presents, but would you like to tell me what happened with Draco?"

Her eyes widened as she looked to Narcissa. "Nothing happened with Draco," she said sourly, no doubt giving her lie away.

"Give me a little more credit than that." Narcissa massaged her shoulder. "I don't expect you to tell me if you don't want to."

"I don't want to. There's nothing to talk about."

Narcissa nodded, seemingly not at all believing her. "Have you ever drunk wine before?" She asked with a smug smirk twisting her lips, already knowing the answer. "Yet you drank an entire bottle," she said at the shake of Hermione's head. Narcissa linked her arm with Hermione's as she led her into the room.

* * *

They had managed to keep their fighting at bay over Christmas Day. Hermione sat beside Malfoy as they opened presents, and she was fine. It was what she repeated to herself in hopes that if she did so, it would magically be true.

It wasn't the case.

Draco opened the present from her, the one she'd bought while they were in London to visit Abbey Road. The memory left a bitter taste in her mouth, but it couldn't stop the swelling of her pride when he opened the pair of gloves. "These are perfect," he murmured to her, and there was a slight twitch of his hand as if he meant to reach out and hold hers.

There was no way to cover up the way she had flinched away from him as if his touch would burn her. "I'm glad," Hermione replied, her voice flat even though she meant it. Draco handed her a box. It was small, fitting in the palm of her hand. "This is from you?"

He nodded, and with the way he was looking at her, he appeared as if he wanted to rip it out of her hand instead.

Hermione slid her nail along the seam of the wrapping paper. With three sets of curious eyes on her, she swallowed while she gingerly tore the tape from the box. Her eyes widened as the shop name on the box was revealed and she looked to Malfoy. "Jewelry?" she croaked, her finger tracing the gold embellishment over the words.

Ollivanders was a shop name she had passed on occasion with Pansy, Luna, and Ginny. It was a shop with ornate decor, the feeling of old money and presence in the world.

Timidly, Hermione lifted the lid of the box and set it beside her. While she'd been partly scared of what she would see, she was terrified of the vicious pounding of her heart when her eyes landed on it. Nestled into the plush pillow of the box was a necklace that was perfect for her. Strewn on a white gold, dainty chain was a pendant no larger than a small coin. Stamped flat, it was engraved with a small design on a globe, with wanderlust etched across the middle.

Her eyes filling with tears, she stared at him. "This is the best thing anyone has ever given me," Hermione whispered, looking down once more to see that it was still there. "This must have cost too much money —"

Draco shrugged, a smile playing at his lips. "I'd hazard to say you were worth every bit of it. You don't have to wear it if you - well —"

He awkwardly skirted around the topic, and she thought that she would like nothing more than to fling her arms around him, if only for a moment.

But that would open her up to the sorts of feelings she wanted to keep out.

"Thank you," she murmured, not quite meeting the gaze of either parent as they attempted to work out what was going on.

* * *

They weren't going to get along, that much Hermione had realized.

For the moment he was giving her space, believing that she would come around, that she would want to talk. He was wrong. While the necklace he'd had made for her hung on the edge of her vanity, she hadn't put it on. It felt too much like entering an unspoken agreement that everything was fine.

She hadn't told Pansy, not on Christmas Day, not before they boarded the plane to return home, and even now she hadn't told her best friend anything. Though they had been back in the manor for three days, she couldn't bring herself to let go of her pride so she could admit it. She probably should have told Pansy. Maybe if she had, she would have been able to curb her temper better.

In what she was sure was an attempt to force them together to solve their problems, Narcissa handed Hermione a slip of paper. "Would you please accompany Draco to the pharmacy?"

It was how she found herself on the back of his motorcycle. His car was in a shop, and he didn't like to drive his mother's. She glared at him as she took the helmet from his grip. "Is this necessary? I don't need to go with you."

He shrugged. "You're more than welcome to stay here so she can interrogate you. I'm not really that bad for company, am I?"

A memory flashed through her mind, of them when they had come home from the hospital, with her pinned to the bed while his thumb swiped across her bottom lip. "Is that the sort of question you really want an answer to?" Hermione arched an eyebrow, climbing onto the bike behind him.

She didn't want to hold onto him, nor did she want to fall off the fucking contraption. When she'd been elected to study abroad, this really wasn't what she'd had in mind. As they came to a stop while waiting for traffic to clear, he turned his head toward her. "What?" Hermione hissed.

"Easy with the wobbling! Keep your feet still," he growled, and the sound sent a shiver down her spine as she looked up to meet his eye.

Hermione cried, "They are!"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You are not. You're dancing around the bike like a damn clown." Before she could argue her side, he said louder this time, "Hold on tight."

She shrieked, looping her arms around his waist tightly as he floored it, weaving in and out of traffic to get into the correct lane. Thankful he couldn't hear her grumbling due to the wind, Hermione couldn't wait to get off his bike.

The pharmacy was a small one, a quaint family-owned shop in the middle of Oxford. She'd passed it before, but this was the first time she stepped inside. The bell ringing out sharply over her head, she glanced around the shop. Aisle after aisle was filled with products, and Hermione wandered away from Malfoy.

He didn't seek her out, instead moving ahead to the back counter. Her phone rang in her pocket, and she muttered a quick apology to the elderly woman behind the counter who only waved her off with a smile. "Hello?" Hermione answered as she looked through the gift section, abruptly setting a snowglobe down when she saw the price.

"Hermione, I think I have a problem." Pansy's voice stopped her in her tracks. Fear and worry were laced throughout her quiet voice, and Hermione waited for her to continue. "I've missed my monthly."

Well, fuck. "How late are you? If it's only a few days, you shouldn't worry yet." Hermione held her phone to her ear as she picked up a decorative pen - it had wine glasses on it though she couldn't see the appeal.

"Three weeks."

"Shit." Hermione groaned quietly. "Would you like for me to buy a test? You couldn't have called at a better time. I'm in a pharmacy right now."

Pansy sighed. "Would you please? That would be perfect."

"Of course," Hermione replied, already working her way through the aisles to find the section she would need. "Does Harry know?"

Another sigh, this one more irritated. "I haven't told him, and he's too oblivious to notice on his own."

Hermione snorted. "That's true. Jesus Christ, how many brands do they need for this? Is there a certain one you want? Well, at least these are more affordable than at home."

Pansy giggled in her ear. "Are they more in America?"

"Astronomically more. Pansy, do you want a certain one? I think the digital one would be better so you don't have to worry if it's a line or not."

"That's fine. Come over right away?"

"Of course," Hermione said, digging her wallet from her purse as she made her way to the counter. "I need to talk to you. Something happened in Paris," she finally said, deciding it was time to talk to someone about it at least before she burst.

"With Draco and you?"

"There is no Draco and I anymore," she replied pointedly. "I'll see you soon." Hermione stood in line, sliding her card out so she would be ready once she reached the front. There were three customers ahead of her, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

There was a tap on her finger and she glanced back to see Draco. "Buying something?" he asked, leaning forward to get a look at what she held in her hand. The nosy bastard that he was.

She held up the box. "Yeah, I had to pick this up." Hermione didn't think of anything of his silence beyond hoping that he had finally decided to let her be.

He coughed, hauling her to the side by her wrist. His grip wasn't rough, but he left her no room to get away. Pulled into the corner of the room where no one could hear them, she folded her arms across her chest. "I know you're furious with me, but do you really think this is the best way to tell me?" Malfoy growled, towering over her, the paper bag in his hand wrinkling as his grip tightened around it.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Dumb doesn't look good on you, Granger. I don't give a fuck how angry you are with me - I would want to be a part of this, whether it's with you, or just the child's life."

Her eyes widening, she couldn't help her laugh, or for that matter, how ridiculously loud it was. "You're serious," Hermione said, covering her mouth.

He rolled his eyes. "I admit that I'm a prick, but I'm not so much of a prick that I wouldn't do right by you if I got you pregnant."

Her smile softened, and for a brief moment in time, it could have been last week. Where they weren't fighting, and where she could have easily kissed him once more. "Marry me?" She joked.

"I mean, I would, yeah."

Hermione smirked. "I'm still livid with you, but you're adorable. I'm not pregnant, Draco. I apologize for my error in not just telling you this was for Pansy."

"Pansy?" he repeated, his eyes wide. "For fuck's sake, I've just made a fool out of myself." He groaned, kicking the toe of his boot against the ground. "You're still cross with me?"

"Unbelievably, yeah," Hermione replied.

She'd long since accepted that out of everyone they knew, the pair of them had the worst luck. So while she was surprised, Hermione also wasn't surprised when a familiar voice sounded behind them, over the bell hanging above the door.

"Mr Malfoy! Ms Granger, how was your holiday in Paris? Romantic, I presume?" Professor Slughorn said, clapping Malfoy on the shoulder. Then his eyes dropped to the package in her hands, and Hermione's heart sank. "Oh, my."

"Absolutely not," Hermione said immediately, her voice hard, all traces of playfulness gone. "This is not for me, and if I have to listen to why Malfoy and I are a perfect bloody match one more time I will tear my hair out," she snapped, tapping her foot.

Malfoy's eyes widened, and there was the tiniest bit of hurt that flickered in his expression before a blank mask took its place. "Yes, because I am the worst person you can imagine being with?" He sneered.

It didn't cause yet another fissure in her heart to see him take astep back, something he would continue to do until she could hardly remember what they were like together. Hermione glared back at him, folding her arms over her chest. "Perhaps not the worst, Malfoy. Don't flatter yourself. You're not some cruel-hearted bastard, you know that? You just pretend you are, which makes you even worse."

He scoffed. "Fuck off, Granger. I don't think you even bothered with getting to know me."

"I could say the same for you." Already riled up, and with all eyes on them, she snapped. It was a mistake, she told herself, there was no easy way back from this, but she leaned forward. "You had to lie to me in order to get to know me. You lied and turned something invaluable to me into something that was just a stepping stone. What was your aim this entire time, Malfoy?"

"You fucking paranoid bitch." He seethed.

"Well," Slughorn put his hands up, laughing albeit nervously. "I think I've stumbled into some personal matters, but Ms Granger, Draco would never —"

"He lied to me since I got here," she said, glancing at the man. He seemed to pale beneath her stare, and his mouth shut. "You're a liar, Malfoy, and all it does it make me wonder if you lied about anything else. How can I possibly believe anything you say now? I don't care that it was Narcissa's idea to use the list because you carried on with this charade."

His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. "Is this what you truly think of me?"

She nodded. "I'll ask Pansy to pick me up."

"Forgive me for taking up so much of your time," he hissed, his arm slamming into her shoulder as he stormed past her.

Left alone, she could feel her eyes stinging. Slughorn slowly stepped away, and the shop owner called out that she was ready for her.

Everything was such a mess.

* * *

She was grateful that Pansy didn't fill the silence as she sat beside her on the trip back to her flat, and even more grateful that Harry was nowhere to be seen when the heavy door closed behind them. Pansy twisted the lock into place, setting her bag on the table, and taking the white package from Hermione's outstretched hand. "Do you want to..?" She let the question hang between them, her eyes narrowing at Hermione's sniffling.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I can wait. I think this is far more important right now," she replied, clasping her fingers in front of her. "I'll be here whenever you're -"

"Like hell, Granger." Pansy snorted, grabbing her hand. "I don't think I can do this alone. Will you sit with me?" She glanced back at Hermione, scraping her arm against the bookshelf she passed. "I should probably call Harry, but he'd be so happy."

Hermione nodded, following her quietly down the corridor. "Would he be upset if it turned out to be negative?" she asked as Pansy opened her bathroom.

"If he were to get his hopes up, I think he would," she replied quietly.

Hermione closed the door behind her, hearing the soft click as it shut. "Have you talked about children? I just mean to ask how you would feel if it were positive?"

Pansy squeezed her eyes shut, unbuttoning her jeans. "Cover your eyes, would you?" Only after Hermione had brought her knees to her chest and covered her eyes did Pansy continue. "To your first question, we've discussed it. He wants children, and I can't imagine having someone other than him as the father of my children."

"Sap." Hermione giggled, unable to dodge the roll of toilet paper she chunked at her. "Ow! I can see it, you know? A little boy with Harry's eyes?"

Pansy gave a small squeal. "I think we would make the cutest kids." Without looking, Hermione knew there was a smile on her face. "I didn't think we were ready, but I have this feeling in my gut that I'm never going to be ready."

Hermione shook her head. "Not like I know anything on the subject, but maybe that's how it is? You'd make a wonderful mum."

"I wanted to graduate before I ever had children. Fuck, I can hear my mother's incessant nagging now. She's given me hell for shacking up with a Potter ever since I started dating him."

It was true, and even though she had met Mrs Parkinson, she still didn't understand the strong dislike she harboured for Harry. "Well —" she swallowed " — you're not obligated to take her opinions into consideration."

There was a flush of the toilet and the sound of her standing to zip her jeans. "You can open your eyes," Pansy said, setting the seat down. She was perched on the lid of the toilet, staring at the test.

"You'll drive yourself crazy if you stare at that for a solid three minutes," Hermione said gently, resisting the urge to bite her nails from second-hand anxiety. "Talk to me."

Pansy's gaze fell on her, her hair tossed up in a ponytail and she rested her chin on her knuckles. "Tell me what happened in Paris, but if you can manage to keep it underneath two minutes and thirty seconds, I would appreciate it. Not that I don't care —"

Hermione laughed, the back of her head connecting with the wall. "I can do that, but you can't talk."

Pansy stuck her tongue out, finally tearing her eyes from the test.

"He lied to me, Pansy," she began, choking slightly as she realized it was only a matter of seconds until she burst into tears. "He's known about my bucket list since before my birthday. All of the things he did with me, the tattoo, his fucking bike, ice skating, Abbey Road - all of it was —" she trailed off, taking in the sharp glint in Pansy's eyes.

"What?" she hissed, standing to her seat and scrambling to pull her phone from her pocket. "I'm going to murder him."

Hermione lunged forward to snatch the phone out of her hand. "Do you remember how you said he and Theo fought over —" at the quick nod, she skipped to the next part " — it was Astoria. This entire fiasco began - so he says - to get back at Theo. He says it isn't like that."

Pansy fell silent. "I don't, I just —" she rubbed her temples. "What a fucking asshole thing to do. How did you find out?"

Hermione flinched as if she'd been struck. Looking down, causing her hair to fall into her face, she murmured, "Draco took me to the Eiffel Tower. Lucius was supposed to, but then we were there together, and he leaned in to kiss me. We slipped - it was my fault - and when his wallet fell, his copy of the list fell out."

She sucked in a breath, eyes narrowing as she sized her up. "I am torn between telling you how much I would like to schedule a frontal lobotomy for him myself - an overreaction, I'm aware, you don't need to tell me - and asking you if you want to forgive him."

Nibbling her bottom lip, Hermione cast a dark look at the title. "I —" she began, tracing the grout " — I'm not sure I want to forgive him because I want it to be everything I imagined it could be, or because just because I dislike conflict. Not that I can avoid that - there was an incident in the pharmacy in which I showed him the test, but neglected to tell him it wasn't for me."

Dark eyes shot open across from her, and a cackle pierced the air. "That's something only you could manage." Pansy wheezed.

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, she continued, "He thought I was pregnant and was rather adamant that he did right by me. That apparently included marrying me, but when he realized I wasn't pregnant he was mortified."

Arching an eyebrow, Pansy asked, "Does this conclude the story of the pharmacy incident?"

Hermione shook her head. "Professor Slughorn walked in at the same time, and he saw the test in my hand. I might," she said the word with a grimace, unwilling to admit she was in the wrong, "have overreacted. I screamed at him, Pansy. In fucking public. I called him a liar, and —"

Pansy held a hand up. "Let me stop you right there. I can already see all those gears and cogs whirring to life in that oversized brain of yours. You shouldn't downplay your anger. Maybe you can apologize to him for screaming at him, but I don't think you owe him an apology at all."

She shrugged. "He wants to apologize to me. Do I let him?"

Pansy cocked her head to the side, her demeanour meticulous. "Quite frankly, I wouldn't give a damn what he has to say, but I feel I shouldn't sway your decision either way. Tell me the pros and cons, Hermione."

"I miss him."

It hung in the silence as she stared at her feet, hot tears stinging her eyes as she recalled the moment just before the relationship they'd been building to come crashing down. "I'm not experienced enough to tell you if I miss Draco, or if I miss the thought of Draco," Hermione continued, her voice cracking as she tried to speak louder. "The only thing I have been able to think of is if I let him in, will he lie to me again? And did he lie to me, or just leave out parts of the truth? It was originally Narcissa's idea, and I don't blame her." She fell silent once more, looking up to the lights mounted above the vanity.

"He took advantage of your trust, love." Pansy said, not looking as she picked up the test. "I want you to look at this because it says to check within three minutes, and I'm a bit paranoid. I want you to tell me the result when we finish this conversation, all right?"

Hermione gasped as she passed her the test. "How can you stand to wait?"

"I can't," she replied, clicking her tongue with a smile. "But I want to finish this first. I'm either pregnant, or I'm not and that won't change. Back to what I was saying, he took advantage of that trust. It's okay to be angry, and it's okay to forgive him eventually, and never rekindle what was there."

Hermione closed her hand over the result window, knowing she couldn't keep going if she knew. "When we slept together, I didn't know. I feel so humiliated to have grown so close to him, thinking it was fate or some other whimsical bullshit."

"I'm sorry that he hurt you, and I would march over to Malfoy Manor right now if I weren't so sure you would hate it."

She took a deep breath. "You know, this probably wasn't what my mum had in mind when she told me to board that plane." And then she thinks back to the letter that had been in her carry on. "I promise this is the last thing before I tell you what this says -"

"Don't rush."

"The letter she wrote in that book, she told me that home was where I made it and that my father and I were her home. Now that I think of it, I wonder if the reason I'm so upset isn't just that he lied to me, maybe it's that he started to remind me of home. That's not to say I love him - I don't, but..." Hermione glanced up at her. "Being here feels like home; seeing you —" she smiled weakly as Pansy's eyes filled with tears " — being with all of these people I could have only found halfway around the world, and then he started to soften towards me, like he was ice at the beginning that would melt if you were worthy, and —" Her chest shook as a sob wrenched from her chest " — I don't have any words."

Her friend nodded, sliding onto the floor, and hugging her tightly. "You'll be okay. Really, it won't..." She smoothed Hermione's hair as she squeezed her, "It won't always feel like this."

It was the worst case scenario - the one where she never let him so close again - and at the moment, there was an annoying whisper curling around the notches of her spine. Hermione already knew that she had no plans to become romantically involved with Draco Malfoy again, she'd just yet to reach accepting it.

"Shall I tell you?" Hermione whispered into her shoulder, tossing the test into the trash.

"God, please." Pansy shook against her, hugging her close as if it's to brace herself. For what, Hermione isn't so sure. "Is it irresponsible if I tell you I want it to be positive? Or foolish? Or that it may very well break my heart to lose something I never had? Oh, I've been building this fantasy in my head and —"

"Pansy," Hermione interrupted, smoothing her hand against her spine. "It's positive," she said, a smile crossing her face as there is an overjoyed shriek beside her ear.

For a moment, she could only giggle and lay in the tile as they discussed how she should tell Harry.

* * *

She wasn't surprised that Narcissa deigned to plan a New Years Eve party, and she imagined she would have been more excited if she weren't live in what felt like hell.

Hermione was more than aware it was melodramatic, and no, she didn't much care. Crossing paths with Malfoy happened often as they lived in the same house. All too often did one of them stumble when they walked past the other, and each moment included her passing him in silence.

She hadn't spoken to him, nor did she wish to strike up a conversation she knew would be painful. Given that she wasn't blind, Hermione realized he was just as hurt as her. It was spelt out for her in the smallest of ways. From sitting across the dining table with stunted conversation to lounging in front of the telly. He seemed to always be there, perhaps lying in wait to ensnare her in conversation.

Not that she gave him the chance. She avoided the manor except for the planning stages of the party. She happily helped Narcissa pick a colour scheme - not that there was much to do on short notice - and volunteered to pick up the wine, and catering options, but only if she went with Pansy.

Speaking of, Harry was so shocked by the news - news that his girlfriend had only blurted with zero finesse as all of their plotting was thrown out the nearest proverbial window - that it took twelve more tests to convince him. A bloody bouquet of pregnancy tests later, he was now waiting for a customised onesie that read promoted to grandma to arrive for Lily Potter. Harry insisted his father didn't need anything cute, but his mother had been dying for grandchildren.

Telling the Parkinson's could have gone better when it came to Mrs Parkinson, but Mr Parkinson elected to pour Harry a glass of scotch and told him to have a seat as they were having a fucking chat.

The verbatim had come from Harry, who seemed to have been too oblivious to worry about his self-preservation. Typical.

She'd visited the library with Theo, not telling him anything concerning Malfoy, though it grated on her nerves to not ask for his side of the story concerning Astoria. The only information he volunteered was that his date with her at the annual Slug Club Christmas party hadn't been much of a date at all. Hermione apologised for his awful night, realizing it was shallow since he could see how little she cared.

Hermione learned that it was Ginny's idea to use the list as a way to worm his way into her affections. Sure, she was irritated that another person - one that she had shared an actual item on the list with, the road trip that birthed the photographs strung behind lights in her bedroom - but in the end she let it go.

He could have come clean, she told herself.

So when she found herself inching along the wall to leave the large room in the manor - it was used for entertaining, Narcissa informed her - just to get away from Malfoy, she couldn't say she was surprised with her actions.

He'd caught her eye, not waving, but watching her as she snuck from the hall.

Hermione promised to make an appearance, and so she did in the pretty dress she'd worn to the Christmas party. Her hair twisted into a chignon by Pansy, she certainly looked the part. Making her way into the kitchen to steal a moment for herself, she took a glass of champagne from the tray passing her, balanced on a hand. The man didn't spare her a glance.

It was all so surreal that she could have laughed. Narcissa Malfoy didn't do anything by halves if the live music said anything. It was more surprising that she hadn't hired a symphony, though she might have tried.

"Hiding, too?" Theo asked from across the kitchen. He was leaned against the island, a glass of whisky is hand. He'd nearly drained it, and he reached behind him to grip the bottle by the neck and poured it over the ice.

She sighed. "I suppose you could say that. I'm hiding from someone if you'd really like to know."

He arched an eyebrow, his tongue darting out to catch a drop of whiskey on his lips. "Draco?" Theo asked, lifting the glass to his lips. "I heard about the bucket list, but I'll pretend to know nothing about it if you prefer that."

Hermione set her empty glass down. "I would prefer for you to pour a glass of that for me if you don't mind," she muttered, sneaking behind one of the chefs. In the middle with the island, they were mostly out of the way. "I don't care that you know. Since you do though, what do you think of it?"

He shrugged, filling the glass and passing it to her. "I'm not sure what to say. I think that he meant well, which means it's not a surprise it went completely off the rails. He feels miserable if it helps."

She winced at the burn as whiskey slid down her throat. "Fuck, that's disgusting." Hermione grimaced. "It doesn't help."

There was a loud clatter as a cake pan crashed against the floor, the cake batter still in it. Theo whistled under his breath. 'Would you like to go outside?"

She nodded, following him out of the kitchen and through the crowd of the hall. He opened the door for her, and she stepped into the chilly December air. "I should probably grab a —" Hermione's voice cut off as he draped his suit jacket over her shoulder, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Thanks."

The two walked in silence as she led them into the maze of hedges, with them taller than even Theo. "Were the two of you together when it happened?" he asked, breaking the painful silence. "He hasn't told me much; he's been avoiding me."

"I don't know. I don't want to pretend there was anything there, really." Hermione swallowed, stopping in place to stare up at the sky. "Do you think I should forgive him?"

"I think your mind is already made up, and you're looking for someone to talk you out of it. If that's the case I'm not your guy, Hermione."

"Maybe I should have trusted my gut from the start," Hermione said, pulling his jacket tight around her. "It's freezing, isn't it?"

He chuckled. "Would you like to go back inside?"

She shook her head. "I've had so much to drink that I don't think I'll trust myself to say anything to him should we run into one another."

Someone yelled from inside the house that it was ten seconds to midnight, and her heart somehow shuddered once more. "They're counting down," Theo mused, squaring his shoulders.

The next nine seconds passed far quicker than the five that followed the screaming from inside the manor. Theo leaned forward, her brain short-circuiting as he pressed his lips to hers.  _They're soft_ , she realized,  _but completely wrong_.

Hermione gasped, pushing him away quickly with wide eyes as her head spins. "What the fuck?" she hissed. "What the hell was that?"

Theo wiped his mouth, looking guilty even though it doesn't help. "I shouldn't have done that." He admitted quickly. "That was stupid."

Her mouth still agape, Hermione nodded. "Incredibly," she replied. "Why the fuck would you kiss me?"

"It just - somehow it felt like the right thing to do at midnight?"

"I don't need a pity kiss!" Hermione snapped, ignoring his low voice when he murmured it was anything but. "Can we just pretend that didn't happen for the sake of not having two of my friendships blowing up in my face within the same week?"

He nodded.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- author dodges various objects thrown -
> 
> I am both sorry, and not sorry for doing a love triangle arse backwards. Thank you for all of the love you've given me and support throughout this story. I have the best readers in the world and you couldn't convince me otherwise.


	16. The Mixed Signals Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I was hoping to get this out for New Years since it’s a New Years chapter, and I somehow pulled it off. Thank you so much to CourtingInsanity who reassured me of this chapter and edited it before I even woke up this morning. She is truly the best.

 

 

She wanted space. 

He respected that even though he thought Granger was overreacting in nearly every possible way. Draco wasn’t sure what Parkinson had told her whenever she inevitably asked the black-haired girl for advice, but he was certain it was nothing that ruled in his favour. 

So he’d kept his distance. He hadn’t attempted to apologize to her again. Fuck, they hadn’t even spoken since the day in the pharmacy - which was a disaster all on its own; again, Granger went fucking ballistic - and she wouldn’t even look at him. 

Yet she trailed after his best mate like a kicked puppy, her eyes darting around the room. There was no doubt she was looking for Draco, and she was still doing everything to avoid him. He wasn't so soft skinned that seeing her glares cut him deeply, but leaving the party with Theo was fucking cruel. 

Unsure if it was a ploy to get back at him, she  _ had  _ been drinking and he would be the first to admit that anyone made regrettable decisions while drunk, he found himself at the open bar.  _ He wouldn’t follow them, _ he grimaced, taking another swig of whiskey and letting it burn a path down his throat. 

She and Theo were only friends, nevermind that Nott had fancied her once upon a time. By that, he meant more like three weeks ago, but surely he wouldn’t do anything. Not after it had become abundantly clear in the hospital that Malfoy  _ did  _ have feelings for her after all.  _ Nott wasn’t as shitty as a friend as he was; he wouldn't make a move toward Granger, he wouldn’t.  _ Even the words, repeated over and over in the back of his mind, did nothing to curb his thoughts. 

It was unhealthy that all he could imagine was the two of them. Perhaps Nott made the first move, and he wasn’t as good of a bloke as Malfoy thought he was.  _ Or _ , his traitorous thoughts began,  _ Granger would be the one to initiate contact. _ It wasn’t so far fetched. She was just as likely as anyone else to be swept up in emotions, to seek physical interaction to chase away circumstances she did not want to confront herself. 

They were alike in that regard. His thoughts were clinical until they weren’t. It went from Theo reaching for Granger, his palm settling on her small waist to imagining things he certainly didn’t want to think of. Theo’s fingers threading into her messy curls - he knew it wasn’t himself when there was no heirloom ring with the family crest glinting against the lights - or of Granger’s face as she - 

_ No.  _

That was the worst string to pull on, imagining his best mate shagging the object of his affections. It was a combination of wanting to lay his fears to rest, ridiculous fears, mind you, and the sight of Astoria Greengrass flouncing across the room. Her dress was cinched at the waist, and  _ she  _ looked as happy as could be. How unlike his mother to invite the young woman she so often regarded as a trollop - or as a slag when Narcissa Malfoy had too much to drink, his mind urged smugly - but Draco wasn’t content to stick around and learn why the now penniless heiress had landed herself an invitation. 

So really, it was a combined feeling of self-loathing and avoidance of the girl that had him pushing away from the open bar. Swallowing the last of his whiskey, Draco turned on his heel and left her surrounded by both sides of the crowds as he made his way to the front door. He slipped out unnoticed, the hundred of his parents’ closest friends covering him as he let the door quietly click into place behind him. 

Freezing gusts of wind nipped at his cheeks, and Draco clenched his jaw as he heard a burst of familiar laughter coming from the courtyard. As the laughter died, he neared the hedges, careful not to let his footfalls give him away. Chances were that Hermione was talking about him, and he realized it was close to the best window of opportunity he had to discover how to fix this mess. Since clearly, an apology wasn’t going to help him at all. 

Their silhouettes were dark against the shrubs that raised over Theo’s head. "Were the two of you together when it happened?" Theo asked, not even looking over his shoulder as Draco misstepped, kicking a rock and making more noise than he should have if he didn’t want to be caught. "He hasn't told me much; he's been avoiding me."   
  


_ Well, no fucking shit.  _ He didn’t want to admit he’d been too occupied with licking his wounds. And that he had ended up caring more for Hermione Granger than he ever anticipated. 

  
"I don't know. I don't want to pretend there was anything there, really." Hermione swallowed, pulling Theo’s black jacket tighter around her as she peered up at the sky. "Do you think I should forgive him?"

There was something rattling around in his chest, broken and sharp, seemingly sticking into his lungs and robbing him of his breath. This was a perfect moment. Theo could easily reassure her that he was worthy of another chance, or multiple judging as how he often seemed to muck things up.    
  
"I think your mind is already made up  — ” well,  _ that  _ certainly didn’t sound like good news for Malfoy  “ —  and you're looking for someone to talk you out of it. If that's the case I'm not your guy, Hermione." Theo shrugged, rubbing his hands in front of him to keep warm.    
  


Too stunned, Malfoy didn’t move from his spot around the corner. 

  
"Maybe I should have trusted my gut from the start," Hermione said, pulling his jacket tight around her again, almost as if it were a nervous tick. "It's freezing, isn't it?" She sighed, her breath wispy in front of her.    
  
He chuckled. "Would you like to go back inside?"   
  
She shook her head. "I've had so much to drink that I don't think I'll trust myself not to say anything to him should we run into one another." 

Malfoy thought that he would very much like to know what the short, fiery woman would have to say for herself when it was directly to him. Not that his mind had to wander far; Granger’s insults were rarely subtle and they cut deeper than he liked to admit.    
  
At the yell from the house, not even a stone’s throw away, his best mate stepped toward Granger. "They're counting down," Theo mused, squaring his shoulders.   
  


His eyes widening, Draco weighed just how furious Granger would be if he burst from his hiding place. He understood exactly what that look on Theo’s face meant - his brow furrowing, and his attention solely on the woman in front of him - even if she did not. 

  
He should have moved, but as the seconds slowly - so fucking  _ slowly _ ticked by - Draco was glad he hadn’t. Theo had kissed her, leaned forward and tipped her chin up so her soft lips met his, just as Draco knew he would. 

Only Granger hadn’t pulled away.

* * *

 

She spent the night with Pansy. Her friend hadn’t attended the party, only coming to pick her up after Hermione went in whatever direction Draco and Theo  _ weren’t. _ Harry said nothing as he slumped into the lazy recliner while Hermione had gone off explaining what had happened. The raven-haired boy didn’t offer much. He hummed in agreement when either woman asked him something. 

Normally, Hermione would have laughed, and made a dig at how quickly he’d learned to keep his self-preservation in check. Only now she’d rather have someone telling her what to do instead of repeating the same thing time and time again:  _ it’s completely up to you, Hermione.  _

_ Well, of course it was _ , she thought sourly. 

Pansy had gone to sleep, hugging Hermione tightly before letting her bedroom door close behind her. And Hermione Granger had not slept one minute. She sat in the same spot on the sofa, her legs crossed, and a checkered blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she watched the moon slowly fall into the sky outside of the window, and the sunrise take its place as the world seemed to come to life again. 

She preferred to say that she had done quite a bit of thinking in the six hours it took before Harry slid out of bed. Under his course load, which wasn’t as much as you would be led to believe by the way he complained, he worked a full-time job. As close with Pansy as she was, Hermione knew Harry was well aware of the fact that  _ technically _ he needn’t work. Though he did, and since the result of the test, he was working even longer hours. 

It made her smile, knowing that her friend’s other half was a terrible whisperer. His whispered declarations had carried from the bedroom into the living room of how he would always put their family first, and that didn’t start when their daughter - he was so sure it was a girl already - was born. No, it started now. 

“Have you slept?” He yawned, padding across the carpet of their flat as he made his way into the kitchen. Flipping the switch on the coffee maker, he leaned on the counter to look at her through the space in between the rooms. “Pansy has never been kind when it comes to sharing the bed, did you know that?” He grinned, his eyes lighting up at the sound of the girl’s name. 

Hermione snorted. “You can imagine she never told me that.” 

“Well,” he drawled, dropping onto the seat across the couch from her, kicking his legs up. “She’s a right fucking terror now that she’s pregnant. Never seen anything like it.” 

Hermione laughed into her hand. “She can’t possibly already be terrible, Harry. She’s only just learned she’s pregnant. That’s like immediately having cravings - she is  _ not _ .” She whispered loudly at the dark look that passed over his face. “You’re kidding.”

Harry gave a slow shake of his head, double-checking their bedroom door to be sure the monster hadn’t stirred. “I’m not complaining that I have to buy mint chocolate chip ice cream at four in the morning, Hermione. I’d do anything for her, but the only store that was open was out.” 

She giggled. “How did it go over?” 

He gaped at her. “How did it bloody go over? You’re mad if you believe I came home without it. I drove to the nearest town to get it. Paid ten times what it was worth in fuel, and jacked up prices in the convenience store too. Her reaction was worth it, though.” 

Hermione blinked. “What did she do?” 

He chuckled. “Honestly? Nothing. She told me she loved me and smiled at me.” 

She could feel her heart melting into a puddle for her dearest friend. “You know, I can’t think of anyone better for her, Harry. I’m so glad she has you, despite the rude bed habits. Does she steal all of the pillows?” 

His eyes narrowed. “She turns the air up, and hordes the blankets and pillows like a goblin.” 

Her nose crinkled. “I’m not sure goblins do that, Potter.” 

“Have you ever met a goblin, Granger?” -  _ Danger _ was silently attached to the end of that. 

“Well, no.” She rolled her eyes. Harry stood from the couch, returning to the kitchen and pouring the cup of coffee into what was probably the largest travel mug he owned. “Do you think I overreacted?” 

He glanced up at her. “That sounds suspiciously like a trick question.” Harry sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. “Hermione, I think he probably deserves another chance. Yeah, he lied to you, and I know how important honesty is in any relationship. I think what you should focus on is that he was trying to fulfil your dreams and wishes.” 

“Do you think he should have told me?” she asked quietly, picking below her fingernails. “Do you think it really matters at all?” 

Harry slid his arms through the sleeves of his coat. “Ideally, Malfoy would have told you from the second he took you into that tattoo shop. He didn’t; I’m not too surprised. I’ve been around him long enough to know he doesn’t admit anything easily. But he took you there to apologize for making you cry on your birthday, which I know all about. Ginny told me. If you want my opinion  — ” 

She blurted, “I do.” 

“Then why aren’t you mad at Narcissa, or Ginny? Both of them knew what was going on. Fuck, Ginny encouraged it even. You’re not angry he lied to you. You’re angry you feel like a fool, and that’s a shitty reason to ignore someone you care so much about altogether.” 

Hermione swallowed, letting his words sink in as her eyes began to water. She wasn’t so thin-skinned, but his words had struck home, and the realization was like a snap of her fingers.  _ She had fucked up. _ Probably not to the point where it could not be repaIred, but Hermione thought it would be better to fix it now than letting another day go by. 

“Isn’t this a sight?” came a laugh from the bedroom doorway. Pansy smirked, leaning against the white trim. “Potter, you give good advice.” 

There was a gentle tug on Hermione’s sleeve, and she glanced up to see Harry. “It wasn’t my intention to make you cry either,” he murmured. 

Hermione shook her head. “No, no. I think I’ve just gone a bit mental lately,” she muttered, standing and wiping her eyes. “She’s right. It was good advice. I’m going to apologize to Malfoy,” she admitted, her stomach rolling over at the thought of swallowing her pride. 

Pansy’s lips twitched into a smile. “Then what are you waiting for?”

* * *

 

Harry had dropped her off and gave her a wink before making his way out of the large circular driveway. The manor had never seemed as frightening as it did then, knowing she would go inside and take the stairs to the left. That she was about to do her best to apologize to a man who probably should make her work a bit harder for it. 

She winced as she kicked a rock, making her way up the stairs. Hermione went to her bedroom first, hearing the shower in their shared bathroom turn on. Hurrying and shutting the door behind her, she made her way to the closet. Still just in time for breakfast if she chose to make her way downstairs, Hermione was certain her timing couldn’t have been better. 

Realistically, Hermione knew that she was acting like a petulant child as time wore on. She missed him desperately - his banter, his smirks, especially his lopsided grins, and the way he looked at her. Perhaps the last part was vain, but it was a fact that rattled around in her clouded mind - that he had looked at her like no one else ever had. 

They hadn’t spoken in a week, not really unless she chose to count the pharmacy, but much like sexual tension, it felt like their ire was only manifesting into something even more toxic than their original rivalry. Hermione realized rather quickly that she regretted blowing up at him in the pharmacy, but she didn’t regret leaving him in Paris. 

With each day since Paris passing her by, she’d look at the necklace hanging on the vanity when she finally dragged herself from her comfy bed. The word staring her in the face that was quickly being engraved into her life metaphorically cut into her. It was something they had shared, the want for adventure, and laughter. He’d given her that much, and now everywhere she looked there was something Malfoy-esque. 

The necklace, her tattoo that she adored, and well, they lived in the same house. 

It was mounting to her doing what she swore she wouldn’t: apologizing. Hermione admitted bitterly and in private, and then to those closest to her that she had overreacted. Surely he deserved to be given the benefit of the doubt given all that had transpired between them. 

It’s what led her to knock on his door on New Year’s Day, and she’d nearly talked herself out of it over the course of the morning. Only six times had she padded quietly away from his door, returning to pace her room before remembering what Harry said, so he might never known that she’d been there. This time, she did it before she could change her mind, rapping on his door. Her knuckles landed harshly against the wood, the sound echoing in the empty corridor, and she winced. 

Hermione stepped backward when she heard a shuffling from inside his bedroom, tucking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans as she wondered what she would say. Should she blurt her apology? Naively, she hadn’t pondered this before throwing herself headlong into what nearly promised to be another conflict. 

He opened the door shirtless, a towel slung around his hips as drops of water slipped from his hair. “Granger?” he said, grey eyes widening in disbelief as they settled on her. “What are you  — ? ” 

“I thought we could talk, but if I’ve caught you at a bad time...” Hermione trailed off as she took another look at him. This time she wasn’t so enamoured by how handsome he was, rather she noted the scratches on his chest. 

“Talk?” He echoed, stepping into the hall. He unclenched his jaw, the rest of his features softening. “I mean, yes I have time. This isn’t a bad time. Do you mind letting me get dressed? I’ll be just a minute.” 

She was about to say yes, to just wave him off with a nervous laugh and the words of how any time was fine; she lived here after all. “I’ve just - I’ve properly fucked all of this up, and I wanted to apologize.” Hermione blurted out as he moved to shut the door. 

His eyes still wide at the sight of her so clearly gnawing her bottom lip, Malfoy looked as if he were about to hook an arm around her waist and pull her into his bedroom. 

There was a thud behind him, and then the soft sound of feet padding toward them. “Draco?” Hermione knew exactly who the blonde was, her hair clearly revealing she’d stayed the night, and she appeared to be thoroughly shagged.

If the sight of Astoria Greengrass still in the nude, wrapped up in his bed sheets, wasn’t enough to nearly make Hermione violently wretch, Malfoy’s reaction would have been comical. “Granger,” he began, putting his hands up and shaking his head. “This isn’t  — ” 

Hermione shook her head, taking a step back as Astoria wedged herself in between Draco and the corridor. She expected a smug look on her face, but she found that Astoria didn’t have anything nasty to say for the moment.  Hermione turned toward her room, tears threatening to spill over. While the girl in front of her currently had nothing to say, there was little doubt it would last long. “Malfoy, we don’t need to talk. I think we’ve said all that we can say.” 

There was the beginning of his objection, and she merely shut her bedroom door, sliding down it as she began to cry.

* * *

 

Well, at least she bloody tried. 

Draco caught her finally in the kitchen before sunrise a few days later. “You do know you can’t avoid me forever, don’t you?” he solemnly asked, setting his cup on the counter. Narcissa and Lucius were still in their bedroom, though Lucius was due to leave for a trip within the hour. “Astoria wasn’t what you thought.” 

She grimaced at the name. “It’s none of my business,” Hermione said, stretching on the tip of her toes to retrieve a glass from the cabinet. Filling it with water, she turned to find him still there, staring at her intently. “No matter your relationships, I think the fact remains that you deserve an apology. I’m incredibly sorry for my behaviour these last couple of weeks. You did nothing to warrant it.” 

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that you’re still forgiving me?” 

There was no triumph on his face as she expected. No trace that he had assumed all along that she would come to him. Unsure what to make of it, she moved to leave. Draco caught her gently by her wrist, his finger sliding against her pulse. “I thought I would be the one grovelling.” 

“I’m not sure why. You’re free to do whomever you like.” Hermione shrugged, tugging her arm free. “It’s not as if I’ve laid some claim to you, Malfoy. We slept together, and we might have thought there was something to explore, but...” 

His gaze had darkened, his hand falling even as he reached for her again. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

She sighed. As Hermione opened her mouth to reply - to say something she surely should not speak aloud if she wanted to retain a semblance of friendship in the near future - Lucius made his way into the kitchen. “Good morning.” 

Hermione smiled, turning on her heel. Whether her pseudo-father knew it or not, he’d just saved her from a conversation that could very well lead to her baring her feelings. 

Chances were that he knew what he had done when he jovially said, “Thank you for brewing me a cup, Draco.” And Hermione swept out of the room long before anyone could grab her attention once more.

* * *

 

By the time classes were set to resume, Hermione had steeled her resolve. Malfoy had still received his apology. She felt he was due that much, and no less, but certainly no more. On any given day, she would have told Pansy everything, right down to the most embarrassing parts, but she didn’t have it in her. Rather, it was Ginny who alerted their mutual friend of Malfoy’s night on New Year’s Eve, and then his continued trysts with the younger Greengrass. 

She had returned to chatting regularly with Theo. The incident on New Years hindering their friendship slightly, but all it took was his video chatting her to see if she had a copy of notes. Of course, she did, and she agreed for him to come by for them to simply review the course load before the first day back. 

Hermione preferred to spend her time outside of the manor unless she was with Narcissa. Lucius was busier than ever with the New Year as he juggled his life at home and a growing corporation. He was boarding flights more than ever before and had just managed to get through the door as Narcissa prepared breakfast.

Hermione entered the kitchen just as she always did, stealing the last drink of orange juice before realizing there wasn’t another carton behind it. She tossed it into the trash bin and Narcissa winked at her. “Morning,” Hermione said to Lucius, hugging him with one arm before sliding into her seat. “How as your flight?” 

He snapped his copy of the Daily Prophet into place and looked at her over the edge, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. “Exhausting. I understand you were up late last night studying.” 

She laughed, reaching for the cup of coffee in front of her. In recent months, Narcissa had improved her finesse with the Keurig. “Nothing wrong with a last minute study session.”

Malfoy slid into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, and shutting it with an overly exasperated sigh. “Morning, Father,” he greeted, collapsing into the seat beside Hermione. His leg mistakenly brushing against hers, Malfoy did not miss the dark look that crossed her features as she scooted her chair away from him, the wooden legs screeching against the tile.  

Lucius carried on, his eyes scanning the front page. “Nothing wrong with a bit of last minute cramming, no,” he said, but when he folded the edition and laid it on the table, something twisted in her gut. “Cissy tells me Theo left late?” 

Her cheeks warmed. “I don’t know what it is you’re thinking, but we were only studying.” Hermione defended, blowing on her coffee. 

Beside her, Draco muttered under his breath, “Doubtful.” 

“What?” she asked, turning her head to him. “If you have something to say to me I would much rather you say it to my face, Malfoy.” 

Irritating as he was, he only rolled his eyes. “Nothing to say,  _ Granger, _ ” Malfoy retorted, tearing the biscuit in front of him apart. “Only that you’ve always seemed comfy with Theo is all,” he continued, smirking behind his hand when her lips twisted into a scowl. 

“You’re a real prick, did you know that?” 

“Such lovely words coming from a hypocritical, scathing bitch, wouldn’t you say?” He snapped, all mirth leaving his eyes. 

Hermione’s fork clattered against her plate at the same time Narcissa let the spatula fall into the sink. Clearing her throat, Hermione managed a ragged, “What?” 

Still glaring, Draco turned away from her, more than aware that his mother was only seconds from attempting to lock them in a closet. “Nothing,” he muttered, his words barbed. “I shouldn’t have mentioned Nott at all.” 

“Can we please  — ? ” Lucius began, letting his reading glasses skid across the table as he set them down. 

She lost her temper, standing too quickly from the table, and nearly tipping her chair backward. Hermione managed a laugh, shaking her head as she snatched her bag from the nearby chair. “This is about Theo?” she muttered, her hair slipping from her ponytail and falling into her face. “We’ve studied together since I came here, and you know that. If anyone,” Hermione hissed, “is a hypocrite here, it’s fucking you!” 

Narcissa was leaned against the countertop, not at all enjoying how the situation looked from her point of view. Even Lucius made no movements to intervene, instead  rubbing his temples as he waited for his children to sort themselves out on their own. 

That was  _ not _ what happened next. 

Malfoy stood, towering over her and glaring down his nose at the short girl before him. She noticed that look about him, the way his jaw clenched whenever he was holding back what he really wanted to say. He snorted, slowly shaking his head. “Pray tell, Granger, how am I the hypocrite here?” 

She ground her teeth together, an unhealthy habit from her childhood that her mother would be astonished by. As it was, Hermione thought childishly that she’d rather punch him in the nose, and she was willing to bet it would feel better than the first time. But no - violence was not going to solve her problems, and it was likely to create more for herself. Her chest heaving as she clenched and unclenched her fists as he stared at her, Hermione settled. “I thought you said you’d rather gouge your eyes out than talk to Astoria,” Hermione said clearly, turning away from him. 

That was enough, even though she was so unlikely to have the last word. Hermione spun on her heel, coming face to face with a crestfallen Narcissa. Draco’s laugh made her freeze, slowly turning to face him, her eyes wide. “ _ What? _ ” Hermione hissed. 

He chuckled, and for just a moment, he looked just like the man she’d grown used to. A fact that made his next words cut even deeper. “We can’t talk with my cock in her mouth.” 

Narcissa shrieked his name. Not that Draco responded to it; what truly caught his attention was Lucius’s voice gruffly cutting through the silence that followed. “Draco Lucius Malfoy,” he began, his tone a warning. 

Hermione’s expression was blank as she looked to Draco. “I’ll walk today. I think just about anything would be better than being trapped with you.”

* * *

She ran into Theo first in the middle of the grounds. Her shoes soaked all the way through from lingering ice, and the light rain. She considered it to be more of a sprinkling, but judging from the man’s reaction, she looked like a wreck. “Hermione?” Theo called out, jogging to catch up to her. “Did you...did you walk here?” 

Hermione shrugged, looking away from him. The cause of her anger hadn’t arrived yet, and she’d hoped she could make it to Professor Slughorn’s class before they ran into one another. It was surely the first time she was eager to see the old, plump man. “I did.” 

His eyes looked as if they would bulge out of their sockets. “Why would you do that? Did something happen?” After a second of deliberation, not even giving her a chance to explain, Theo continued. “Well, of course, something happened, but what  — ? ” 

Hermione clapped her palm over his mouth, levelling him with her stare. “If I pull my hand away, will you promise to please stop babbling?” He nodded and she pulled her hand away. “I didn’t want to be in the car with Malfoy. He’s being extra prickish.” 

“But what happened?” 

She sighed, pulling the straps of her backpack over both shoulders. “I know you mean well, but if it’s all the same, I would rather not talk about it at all.” 

Theo pulled her in for a one-armed hug, his touch not lingering, but he gave her a squeeze. “We need to get you out of those clothes. You must be soaked to the bone. Well, not we...” 

Hermione laughed, the cheerful sound echoing in the tree above them. “I don’t imagine you meant you would take me out of my clothes yourself, Theo. I don’t have a spare change of clothes in my backpack.” 

He cracked a smile. “You have everything else though.” Theo pulled his own backpack forward, unzipping the main compartment and rifling around until he could produce a pair of joggers and a jumper. Folding them into her hands, he said, “They’re clean if that’s what you’re going to ask. There’s no point in you going throughout the day freezing. You’ll catch a cold.” 

The corner of her lips raised. “Thanks. This was kind of you.” 

Theo leaned back on the balls of his feet. “Mind if I hold your things while you go to the loo?” he asked, pointing over his shoulder to the entrance by the quad. 

She nodded, leaving him there as she hurried to change. There wasn’t much that could be done for her knickers in terms of drying them. Sighing, Hermione peeled them off and wrapped them, and her clothes in paper towels. She would just grab a plastic bag from the campus shop and then hide her things in her backpack. There wasn’t anything that could be done about her bra, but considering she needed to wear it... 

In the end, Hermione was left to realize that the joggers were far too long for her. So she rolled them up the best she could and tugged the jumper over her head.

* * *

 

Now that Theo was with Granger, or so Draco Malfoy believed, there was one person who had known him long enough to be able to pull him out of one of his self imposed pity parties. Unfortunately, Ginevra Weasley preferred to handle things with her hands. It was how he ended up flat on his arse in the  _ middle _ of a heated snog with a blonde he couldn’t stand in the corridors. 

“Oh, my God!” came the shriek in his ear as Astoria stumbled away from him. 

Draco rubbed the back of his head, glaring at the woman who appeared to be moments from kicking him while he was down. “Greengrass, dear,” Ginny began, sweetness dripping from each word. “I’m  _ so _ sorry to interrupt, but I need to have a word with my dear friend. You understand, don’t you?” 

Astoria was pretty, Malfoy could give her that. As well as high maintenance, a cunt, and, well, the woman had zero sense of self-preservation. Her eyes narrowing, she held her nose up high. “Well, dear, as you can see he’s clearly busy, so you can  — ” 

“I’m giving you a chance,” Ginny deadpanned. “Get the hell out of here. If he wants to crawl back between your legs so badly, he’ll come find you.” 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as he rose to his feet. “Just go, Tori.” He sighed, turning to Ginny. “If you’re going to scold me, I would much rather you do it in private.” 

Ginny huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “And I would rather not have to do this in the first place. The usual spot then?” she asked. 

There was a joke to be made about how they had snuck off to the alcove several times in their previous relationship, but there was no humour in her gaze. “Yeah.” 

“Draco!” Astoria called, bounding toward him again, and shoving Ginny out of her way. She slid her palms up his chest, quickly stretching to press her lips to his. “Just...for later.” She winked, and he was left confused. Walking away from him with a cliche spring in her step, he heard, “Hello, Hermione, Theo,” she greeted, and her heels clicking against the tile slowly faded away. 

His throat tight, he looked down at Ginny. “Granger was there?” he murmured, his voice octaves lower than the students in the corridor. “Is she glaring at me?” 

Ginny sighed, a sad expression on her face. “Draco, she saw it, but she’s not looking at you at all. I’m afraid if she does, she’ll burst into tears, or maul you. I’m rather fond of the second.” 

“She’s too sensible for that,” he muttered, following Ginny’s lead. 

She was right; Granger didn’t glance at him at all as he passed. Instead, she focused on her shoes, and it gave him the chance to see N-O-T-T lettered across her back. It wasn’t a mistake when he slammed his shoulder against Theo’s hard enough to send him tumbling back. Granger glanced up, a plastic bag in her hand. 

And what he really fucking hoped weren’t her black knickers tucked inside. Judging as how they were pressed against the plastic, it left little to be imagined. 

Ginny pulled him away before he could say anything about Granger not needing a ride from him since evidently - the thought was cut short as Ginny dragged him up the stairs and into an alcove. Her eyes bright with anger, she stared back at him. “What were you thinking?” she whispered. 

“I was thinking that I could make her happy with her bloody list!” he snapped. 

Only she shook her head again. “I love you, you know that. Not like my older brother since...well,  _ that _ , but you’re my best friend.” 

Colour drained from his face. He wasn’t sure when the last time she’d begun a conversation like this. Probably never, but slowly her anger dissipated and in its place was disappointment. “What are you on about?” he murmured, leaning against the wall and sliding to sit on the floor. 

Ginny joined him, grabbing his hand. “She’s not upset about the list. Pansy called me, and it would seem your savior was actually Harry.” 

“Potter?” he asked, his eyes knitting together. “I don’t follow.” 

“He more or less told Hermione to give you another chance. It’s why she wanted to apologize. What do you plan to do about it now?” 

He stared straight ahead, crossing one ankle over the other. “She still apologized to me. Believe me, I was baffled by it too. I don’t plan to do anything about it now. Granger thinks I’m dating Tori.” 

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Are you?” she challenged, and he knew it as well as he knew her, that she was daring him to admit the truth for once. 

Telling her it was a simple misunderstanding was on the tip of his tongue before he remembered how it felt to see his best mate snog who he had always thought was his girl. Or the way she was wearing his clothes now, her own neatly tucked away into a bag after whatever had happened between them. Seeing them left a bad taste in his mouth, and despite it feeling a knife was being wiggled between his ribs, Draco managed a response. 

“Yes.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I have a few things to say. I no longer think this story will be 26 chapter. It will probably be more like 23-24. After I uploaded the last chapter I took a hard look at my outline, the constructive criticism from friends, and words from reviewers. And then I trashed the remained of my outline. My fantastic friend and prereader, Vanessa, videochatted me for about two hours, maybe three?, and we created a new second half of the story. And then CourtingInsanity and I did the same to work out any places I was stuck with.
> 
>  
> 
> So thank you to both of these women that I’m lucky to have! CI helps me, and pushes me, and is my constant cheerleader. They both are, really, but V really pushed me to move a little outside of my comfort zone for this fic and that’s just really fucking hard to do for me.
> 
>  
> 
> I officially have a fic over 100k. I’m fucking exhausted.
> 
>  
> 
> Mrs. Ren.


	17. The Shrieking Shack - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you accidentally get a fluke update? No, you didn't. So please read this note even if you never read another of mine. To the reviewers, both signed in and anon, who called me on some things that happened in this chapter ﹘ thanks from the bottom of my heart. You made me confront the fact that I wrote a love triangle - knowing that I actually hate love triangles - because I thought it would appeal to readers.
> 
> You will recognize the majority of this chapter. You can skip to where Hermione is leaving the club.

 

* * *

The new year brought forth new changes, things that Hermione noticed immediately. Pansy was still as sassy as she ever had been, but there was a glow about her that made everyone smile just a bit when she came into the crowd. Harry had lowered his number of classes, though Ron lodged a minor complaint over lunch that he would have no one with him to get through Professor Snape's class.

Her friendships were mostly the same, a certain one still strained for reasons she didn't understand. Sure, the two of them weren't getting along, and they were always raging war across the dining room table, but Hermione knew her boundaries. Malfoy, however, had it out for her and it showed everytime he chanced a look at her.

Astoria joined them occasionally. To any outsider it would appear that Malfoy couldn't stand the woman himself but it wasn't Hermione's business to wonder why he was keeping her around in the first place. It struck her - and she'd told the girls before biting the inside of her cheek to keep quiet - that he was getting over whatever had happened by burying himself in someone else.

It wasn't her business, but did he  _have_  to pick the one person she utterly loathed?

Hermione was...well...she didn't look at Malfoy as someone she'd lost after the first week of being in classes once more. Afterall, it was hard to lose something she'd never had.

What really upset her was a man that had been invited over for dinner with the Malfoys the night previous, and had immediately rubbed her the wrong way. Professor Severus Snape was Draco's godfather as it would turn out, and the tall, willowy man had seen right through their bullshit. She could see why Ron was complaining about being in his class without Harry for support.

_Narcissa rose from the table, crooking her finger at Lucius who sat across from her. "Lucius, would you please help me in the kitchen for a moment?"_

_He set his napkin down on the table. "Cissa, it's only one_ —"

 _His wife's eyes narrowed sharply, and her leveled stare made it quite clear that she was not_ asking. " _I'm still a bit frail from the tests earlier today," she murmured, daring_

_either of her children at the table to challenge her on that._

_Draco said nothing, instead laying his head on his knuckles as he propped his elbow against the table. He smirked as his mother didn't breathe a word of his table manners, or lack thereof. "Would you like me to help you, Mum?" Draco asked, the corner of his mouth lifting. "It would be no trouble at all."_

" _Oh, no, you should really catch up with your godfather. We'll be just a moment."_

_Feeling incredibly out of place, Hermione realized that a moment loosely translated into fifteen minutes. The man across from her appeared as if he were always angry, and the light shined against greasy hair. Though she was certain it wasn't greasy at all, and he just had the unfortunate luck of looking that way. Dark eyes settled on her before shifting to Malfoy, who sat at her side, and then back to her._

_Severus sighed, rolling his eyes. "What did you do?" he asked Draco, his tone calm, not quite pleasant as there seemed to be a threat woven right under the surface of his low timbre._

_Hermione's stomach dropped as Draco turned to glare at her, colour dusting his cheeks. "I'm not sure what you're talking about." Malfoy sneered, looking away from her. "Even if something had happened, it certainly wouldn't concern you."_

_Her mouth fell open. "Malfoy, stop being rude," she murmured, noting the way the man across from her smiled, just a bit. Almost as if he had been expecting her to scold his Godson. "That's really no way to speak to him."_

_Grey eyes narrowed, and he raked his fingers through his hair. "Snape is being nosy."_

" _Is he?" Hermione smiled at the low chuckle that sounded from across the dining table. Arching an eyebrow and resisting the urge to leave altogether, she continued, "He has eyes, Malfoy, and I think a blind man could see that we're not getting along."_

" _That's putting it fucking mildly, Granger," Malfoy hissed._

" _Yes," Severus drawled, so clearly amused by the display hosted in front of him. "I'll say that's barely scratching the surface. Your mother is worried about an argument the two of you had over breakfast last week. Something_ —"  _his nose crinkled in disgust, as if he wasn't sure how he'd found himself in this situation. Hermione knew - Narcissa had put him up to it, no doubt. "Something about a peer of yours? A young woman whose name I truly don't care to remember."_

_Hermione flushed, clasping her hands in her lap. "Yes, Professor Snape. It's his girlfriend, and the two of us don't get on famously."_

_Snape leaned forward, and Hermione felt like this might have been the most entertainment he'd had in weeks. "Perhaps the two of you should sit down and discuss your problems then."_

_She let out a loud laugh, the tension finally leaving her shoulders, and the weight that had been settled on her chest vanishing. The laugh didn't belong, and Malfoy flinched at the sound. "I'm rather certain we have nothing to discuss."_

_Snape laughed. "I see Narcissa was right about you. Well, Draco? Do you agree you have nothing to discuss?"_

_At his Godfather's weak attempts to play as a mediator, Malfoy's cheeks burned in anger. "Fuck this," he muttered, standing from his chair and exiting the room. Moments later they heard the sound of his bike coming to life, and the slow sound of him leaving the manor._

" _Well_ —"  _Snape clasped his hands, a smirk on his face "_ —  _that went better than expected."_

_Hermione choked. "How did you expect it to go?"_

_Snape shrugged, keeping that to himself._

Severus Snape, the witty, sometimes humorous Godfather, turned out to be their Professor. While outside of the University Hermione was on his good side, inside of the lecture hall, she was  _not._

* * *

"That was —" Theo began, gasping as Hermione dragged him down the corridors "— the best bloody thing I have ever seen." His laughter echoed as she grabbed him by the hand and tugged him around the corner, the noise drawing more attention than she would have liked.

Her blush went from her face, to the tip of her ears, and inched down her neck. "I can't believe I played a prank on a professor. Indirectly, but," she whispered, listening to Theo dissolve into laughter once more.

It wasn't solely her idea! She would have never played a prank on Professor Snape just for kicks, but she hadn't stuck around to explain it either.

He shook his head. "I can't believe you played a prank on fucking Professor Snape." Theo wheezed. "Weasley is going to ask you to marry him on the spot."

"I'm sure Lavender would end that." Hermione smiled, peeking around the corner to see Professor Snape chucking the abandoned air horn container in the trash. "He's going to fail me," she worried aloud.

"No."

Hermione screamed as the voice came from behind her and jumped toward Theo. "What's wrong with you?" she snapped, looking up at Malfoy. "Jesus, you can't just sneak up on me like that."

He looked to Theo. "I didn't. He knew I was here. Anyway, Snape won't fail you, but he'll get even."

Her eyes widened. "I am  _not_  having a prank war with my professor."

Draco snorted. "You should have thought about that before you taped an airhorn below his seat, Granger."

She glanced down at her feet, partly ashamed, but mostly impressed with herself because Professor Snape had covered it on the first day due to Ron's older brothers. " _Silly pranks will not work on me,"_ he'd said and, well, he was wrong.

Theo squeezed her shoulder. "Did you see his face, mate? It was fucking priceless. I wish I had a picture."

The lecture hall had fallen silent as they gathered their books, packing away their supplies, and Hermione had just sat in her seat, an anxious look on her face. She'd barely stopped herself from calling out for Snape to not sit down, but Theo shook his head. So, a minute before they were to be dismissed, their professor took his seat, glasses sliding down his crooked nose as he flicked through a stack of papers. And then the loud sound of an airhorn enveloped the classroom, and everyone froze.

He'd shouted, toppling out of the chair as his students began laughing. Promptly aware of who had done it from her red face, he began in a warning tone, "Mr Weasley..."

Of all the things Ron Weasley could have done, he ratted her out. Shouting, he began, "It was Mione's idea! I thought it would be enough to put glue on your seat, but she insisted on an air horn."

She'd bolted with Theo hot on her heels.

"Weasley might ask you to marry him," Malfoy mused, echoing his friend's earlier words, and she wondered if he'd been there to hear them. Had he been behind them the entire time?

"The only Weasley I would consider marrying is Ginny," she said, rolling her eyes. "We were about to visit the library. Would you like to come?"

It was like a switch had been flipped with the way Draco's eyes hardened. Finally, he only sighed. "Afraid not, I'm meeting Tori."

As if the name didn't grate on her nerves the littlest bit, Hermione nodded. "I hope you have a lovely time. See you at the manor then," she replied, choosing to make a quick escape around the corner. Immediately her face fell. "Professor Snape, you're looking extra...awake today." She giggled.

"I would have expected that sort of stunt from Fred or George Weasley. Not from someone with marks as high as yours," he drawled, glancing behind her. "The girlfriend, I presume?" He nodded toward a space over her shoulder, and Hermione turned to see Draco and Astoria.

Facing him once more, she replied, "That's the one. I'm afraid I have no idea what kind of stunt you're talking about, Professor Snape."

"Ah, yes, the airhorn didn't have your name written all over it. Did you get that idea from a Weasley?"

She shook her head. "If I  _had_  done the prank, it certainly would have been due to a senior prank played by my graduating class at home."

"Full of troublemakers then?" Snape asked while Theo rumbled with laughter behind her.

She adjusted her weight from one foot to the other. "Most of them, except for me of course."

Snape snorted.

* * *

The library was quiet as they found their normal spot, Hermione setting up her computer, and organizing her notes while Theo went to the nearest vending machine. At least some things were still the same.

Theo passed her the small bag of pretzels, and the bottle of water before they settled into silence.

Silence that didn't last long. "Are you okay?" he asked, softly closing his book so as not to draw attention from the librarian. "Hermione."

She heaved a sigh, glancing up at him. "You were waiting until I was alone to ask me; I thought so. I'm fine."

He bristled at the observation, but said nothing. "The two of you —"

Hermione cut him off. "There's nothing you can do, Theo. Either we will get back to our friendship again - which I think I should have stuck with instead of a silly crush - or we won't. I have my doubts we'll hate each other forever. It's not your job to fix it," she murmured softly, reaching across to squeeze his hand. "I'm fine, really. I'm not going to be hung up on Malfoy."

"I feel like you're deflecting your emotions," Theo admitted. "I don't want you to be hurting."

She smiled. "You're very sweet. Don't ever change, Theo."

* * *

Until landing in England, Hermione Granger had never thought of herself as someone who would willingly go to pubs. Now finding herself with a large group of friends who often planned nights out with each other, she found herself visiting pubs more than ever imagined.

Such as the Shrieking Shack. Hermione let Pansy do her hair while her friend complained that she wouldn't be able to drink along with them. Not that she actually minded, but it was rather that it gave her the chance to bring up her pregnancy, and that was what always made her grin ear to ear.

Luna sat on the sofa, her hair twisted on top of her head, with stray hairs sticking out from the ponytail in a way that could only be endearing if you were Luna Lovegood. Flipping through an on-campus magazine, she only spoke to tell Pansy when she'd missed a piece of hair.

"Is Ginny's boyfriend coming tonight?" Hermione asked, wincing when Pansy brought the curling wand too close to her temple for comfort as heat radiated from it. "She's been saying we would meet him, but every time an opportunity pops up, she weasels her way out of it."

Luna laughed. "Pun intended?"

Hermione realized what she'd said and laughed to herself. "Sure."

Luna blew a bubble before tucking her gum back into her cheek. "I'm certain Blaise will be there tonight. He celebrated New Year in Italy with his mum is what Ginny said. Now that he's back, the only reason she wouldn't bring him is if she's worried we'll scare him off."

"There," Pansy said, grabbing a can of hairspray from the table. "Fuck, I wish I hadn't cut my hair off," she muttered, twisting one of Hermione's curls around her finger.

Holding up the hand mirror in front of Hermione's face, and her own, she grinned. "You're so pretty." She smiled, and kissed her on the temple. "Harry should be back soon."

"He's working an awful lot," Luna said.

Pansy's face may have fallen a bit, but she pushed through it. "Yes, he has been. I told him it wasn't necessary, but ever since we found out, he's been doing double the work. I'm appreciative."

Hermione bumped Pansy's shoulders with her own. "He's a good man. He's just doing odd jobs for the moment, isn't he?"

A nod. "We disagreed over it, but he's decided fully on becoming a policeman like his father. His mum and I are furious." She gave a weak laugh. "Once the year is finished, he'll enter training."

"He'll be safe. There's nothing that would separate the man from coming home to you and this child," Hermione said, tucking her legs under herself. "Has your mother warmed up to the idea of being a grandmum yet?"

Pansy scoffed, nearly choking on her laugh. "Fuck no, are you kidding me? She's furious my baby is being born out of wedlock." She spit the last word as if it were dirty. "I'm worried he'll propose to me just because he believes he has to. Nothing makes me happier than infuriating my own mother."

If that wasn't the truth, Hermione didn't know what was. "Harry may enjoy driving her spare more than you do," she said.

Luna chimed in, glancing up from her phone, where it was clear she'd answered a video call. "Sorry, Hermione, Pansy, I should leave the room and talk to Rolf."

Hermione and Pansy exchanged a glance, eyebrows raising. "Who the fuck is Rolf?" Pansy spluttered, her hand raising to her proverbial pearls - a move she'd learned from the dramatic Mrs Parkinson - as if offended that she had been left out of the loop for so long.

Luna beamed at them, coming to Pansy's side, and showing them who the man was, rather than telling them. Hermione hurried to the other side of the couch, crowding Pansy so she could get a better look. With all three of their heads crammed into the same space, it was Luna who spoke first.

"Rolf, this is Pansy, and Hermione. This is my boyfriend," Luna explained.

Rolf was handsome, and adorable in a boyish sort of way. With brown hair that was somewhat in need of a trim, and bright blue eyes, both girls could see what drew Luna to him. "Nice to meet you, digitally anyway." Hermione smiled. "How long have the two of you been dating?"

Nevermind that Pansy was currently glaring at their friend for not telling them.

"Oh —" he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Eight months nearly; it will be on the twenty-seventh."

While Hermione forced herself to keep her pleasant demeanor, she was prepared when Pansy's shriek was high and shrill.

"Eight bloody months?" Pansy accused, pointing at Luna. "We tell eachother everything. How have we never met?"

Luna rolled her eyes. "It's a bit of a story, one I would rather tell you later." Plucking her phone back from Hermione's hand as she listened to Rolf explain the finer parts of zoology, Luna left them in the living room.

Pansy muttered, "That was bizarre."

Snorting, Hermione shook her head. "Luna? Never." And there was not a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

* * *

Neither Pansy nor Harry visited the bar for anything beyond bottled water. Pansy for obvious reasons, and Harry because if his girlfriend couldn't drink, then he wouldn't. It was all rather sweet, and at the moment, sweet made Hermione want to gag.

Huddled in a booth near the stage - which was barely one at all, just a bit of the floor that was higher than the rest and was accompanied with a mic - Hermione was sandwiched in between Theo, and Ginny. Not everyone had arrived, and between the flashing lights, and the booming music that had several patrons swaying on the floor, she wasn't sure that she would make it through the night.

"Blaise!" Ginny screamed right into Hermione's ear, earning her a hard stare as she climbed over the table, and sprinted toward the man who had just walked in. Ginny jumped at him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he caught her, laughing while she peppered his face with kisses.

"Thank God," Hermione muttered, taking Ginny's spot for herself.

Theo looked over to her. "Do you want a drink? I'm going for myself anyway."

Over his right shoulder, she saw Draco enter the building, Astoria not far behind him. She nodded immediately. "Sure, whatever you're drinking is fine."

He arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? Do you even like shots?"

Well...she didn't know if she did, or didn't. "Would you laugh at me if I told you I've only ever been drunk on wine?" Hermione asked sheepishly, tucking her knees to her chest. "I'll try it," she conceded, waving him off.

With Pansy and Harry off at the bar talking to Neville and Hannah, it left the booth wide open. "Mind if we sit here?" Her chest contracted tightly at the sound of his voice.

"Not at all," Hermione replied, motioning toward the empty side of the booth. "If you'd been here a bit sooner, Theo could have grabbed you drinks as well."

Astoria laid her pale pink clutch on the table, the shimmery strap hanging off the edge. It looked awfully out of place. The woman herself looked out of place next to Draco, who had dressed in denims, Doc Martens, and a plan shirt with a jacket over it. Stretching his arm over the back of the booth he allowed Astoria to lean into him; the blonde girl looked triumphant.

It couldn't be healthy to consider knocking that smug look off of her face.

"Oh, that's so nice of Theo to get your drinks for you! They have a mixed drink here that's delicious, tastes like pineapples."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't ask if Tori had been drinking juice the entire fucking time. It wasn't like she had much room to talk considering she'd barely drank anything herself. She hummed instead, watching Theo's back as he stood beside Neville. "Oh, I'll have to try it then. He was getting shots, so..."

Like she expected, Astoria's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Just booze?" she asked. "You'll be retching in the toilets."

"I'm sure I'll be fine. Though I thank you for your concern." Hermione tapped her feet against the booth, well aware of how the other woman was looking at her. Any moment she would mutter how it wasn't ladylike to rest your shoes in the seat, but Hermione wasn't sure she'd really taken in what kind of place this pub was.

Astoria shot Hermione a look, waiting until the brunette arched an eyebrow, before cupping Draco's face and tilting it toward her. Pressing her lips to Draco's, and sliding her hands into his hair, she let out a breathy whimper.

Hermione's stomach sank. What had she expected? For Malfoy to pull away? That was ridiculous, but it didn't stop the little bit of hope that reared its head.

Theo came back with an incredulous look on his face, and Hermione just shook her head. "Oi, mate," Theo snapped, setting down a tray of shot glasses. "If you're looking to shag in public, you should probably go to the loo instead."

Hermione snorted, not bothering to muffle her laugh as Draco placed Tori back where she'd been originally sitting. "This doesn't seem like much," Hermione muttered to Theo, looking at the glasses in front of them. "Four each?"

Theo grinned at her, picking up the first glass on his end and bringing it to his lips. "You say that, but you also told me you've only ever had wine."

Blush pooled in her cheeks. "You weren't supposed to laugh."

Theo swallowed, a droplet sliding down his chin. "Don't drink it straight. Drink this after it." He told her, setting a glass in front of her.

"Orange juice?"

He smirked. "Why don't you just trust me? One drink of that —" he pointed to the glass she'd taken into her hand "— and you'll be guzzling the juice. It's not what I would have preferred, but it's all they had."

With three sets of eyes on her, Hermione made the mistake of smelling the liquor first. "Oh, my God. What the fuck is  _this_?" She gagged by just the smell alone.

Malfoy roared with laughter.

"Rum." Theo picked up the second glass. "Already falling behind, kitten."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Oh, that sounds like a competition," she muttered, glaring at him over the rim of the decorative shot glass. "I'm rather competitive, Nott."

"Funny, so am I," he retorted, drinking the second.

"Fuck off," she muttered, and all it took was the challenge, and the smidge of peer pressure. Theo had been right. It tasted awful, and she drank a quarter of the juice to get the terrible taste out of her mouth. "I'll never want to drink orange juice again." Hermione giggled, reaching for the second.

"Well, that's fantastic news for me," Draco rumbled, sliding out of the seat and heading toward the bar. Astoria followed him, throwing a glare over her shoulder.

Theo reached for a third. "What was that about?"

Hermione shrugged. "I frequently drink the last of his orange juice. This is worse than whatever you had on New Year's Eve."

So round it went. Hermione drank three, argued that she felt  _completely_ fine. Theo had truly underestimated her ability to hold her liquor, and then she tried to walk when he dared her to. He caught her of course, her head nearly banging against another table as she went down, and he'd muttered in her ear, "Stubborn."

She laughed, stepping away from him. While all of her friends had eventually found their way back to their booth, Hermione had spent the majority of her time at Theo's side. Certain it gave a specific impression, and also certain she didn't care, Hermione realized that he was even more entertaining than she'd known.

Theo made her laugh, always had even when she had to be quiet in the library, and she was quickly reminded of the spontaneous trip to London.

* * *

Hermione once again was sandwiched between two people. Only this time it was Theo and Luna. Ginny was off somewhere with Blaise. Harry had dragged another table over to accomodate for everyone.

It was loud and busy and even though Astoria Greengrass was annoying the absolute fuck out of her, Hermione thought it was a good night.

"Hermione," Luna nudged her. "The mic is open."

At any other time, the idea of getting up in front of a crowd for karaoke would have sent her in the opposite direction. But with a combination of the drinks, being high on her own happiness, and the delighted twinkle in Luna's eyes, Hermione followed her onto the stage.

* * *

He was not irritated.

It was a total fucking lie. Every time she laughed at something Theo said, or his best mate 'mistakenly' touched her, Malfoy ground his teeth. Stubbornly, he hadn't said anything to smooth things over, choosing instead to let Granger believe he was seriously dating the witch at his side. He was a cock up for doing this, letting his mean, jealous streak show. The only thing that irritated him more was that Granger was so fucking dense that she hadn't noticed why.

He was a goddamned idiot. Too late now, he supposed as he drank his whiskey. Granger might not be infatuated with Theo, but she was well on her way with everytime the bloke made her laugh. And so help him, if Theo whispered something in her ear one more time at all, he wasn't sure he would be unable to keep quiet.

Granger followed Looney onto the small stage, smiling shyly when a microphone was pressed into her hand. With Tori at his side, tucked neatly beneath his arm, and snuggling into him, he shouldn't have been drinking in the sight of Hermione if he wanted to keep the appearance that he wasn't infatuated with her. Yet he was, infatuated that is.

First of all, Draco already knew she couldn't sing worth a shite, but she looked awfully adorable while doing it. So full of energy and too drunk to care that she would normally be embarrassed, she danced around the stage, her hips swaying and her curls bouncing with every step.

Astoria sipped her drink, batting her lashes every time she believed Draco had looked toward her. And if he did, it was because he wanted to roll his eyes at her drink. It was ninety five percent juice, and five percent alcohol. Shortly, Astoria would be stumbling around as if she was pissed, giggling and reaching out for him,  _accidentally_  brushing her small hand against his cock.

For the upteenth time since he began this charade as an attempt to avoid his own emotions, he was sickened with the fiasco.

When Tori wasn't looking, her eyes wandering toward other blokes in the pub - not that he minded since he wouldn't be happier than to be free of her - Draco grinned. This was not a side of Granger he'd ever seen before.

Even when Hermione drank a bottle of wine by herself, he hadn't been there to witness her make a fool of herself. Misspelled holiday greetings barely scratched the surface. His expression was wiped from his face and his lips pressed into a hard line when she smiled to Theo, waving even.

Right, the  _boyfriend._

As the song ended, and Granger passed her microphone to an employee who squeezed her shoulder, she stumbled into a hug from Pansy. "How awful was I?" Granger laughed, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Astoria butted in with her unwelcome opinion, not that she cared at all. "Positively dreadful. I'm not sure how you can stand to embarrass yourself like that." She turned her nose up.

Pansy glared at him, mouthing, "Fix this, shitehead."

Granger inhaled sharply. "Didn't your mother ever teach you if you didn't have anything nice to say, to not say anything at all?"

Tori crossed the line almost instantly. "I'm not sure what kind of cookie cutter bitch your mother was —"

GrangerHermione stepped forward first, and Pansy almost,  _almost_  moved to stop her before a satisfied smile crossed her lips. Granger took the still full drink from Astoria's hands, and threw it in her face. "Fuck you, Greengrass," she snarled, spinning on her heel and storming away.

Still, there was no missing the way her eyes watered beneath the lights.

Astoria grabbed her purse, taking his keys from his pocket while muttering she was going to grab the joggers and jumpers he kept in his car. Malfoy expected her to demand for them to leave.

"Don't fucking look at me like that, Parkinson. I'll tell her to stop being a cunt, all right?" he growled. "I'll be right back," he muttered, shoving through the crowd as quickly as he could. Partly because he didn't want Theo to reach the girl first, and partly because if Astoria found out he'd gone to Granger, she would probably ditch him. Which on a second thought, it would have worked out in his favor.

He found her in the bathroom. Flipping the lock into place behind him, he stood awkwardly near the door as she rose to her feet. "Granger?"

"How fucking could you?" sShe spat, and whatever he had expected, it hadn't been this. "I understand that she's whatever to you —"

"Granger —"

"Don't fucking cut me off, Malfoy," Granger hissed, and his mouth snapped shut. "She's a cunt, and you know it. Out of all of the women you know, why her?" She looked almost as if she was on the verge of tears, and he had forgotten everything he'd planned to say.

The truth was at the tip of his tongue, and for a brief moment, he wondered if laying it out was the best option.  _I chose her because you snogged my best mate, and I was_

 _hurt, and I wanted to hurt you._  He let the thought go as soon as it entered his mind.

"She was easy - not like that. Please don't look at me like that. I know that you've had something on your mind all night."

She scoffed. "Oh, yes, but I'm not sure why we would talk about it."

He glared at her. "Probably because besides Pansy, I would bet I know you better than anyone else. You were in a foul mood from the beginning of the night, and I'd like to know why."

Granger's shoulders shook, and she wouldn't meet his eye. "I'm so fucking sick of seeing you with Astoria," she muttered, and he knew she'd had too much to drink. He'd be lucky if she even remembered admitting that truth. Her eyes were wide, blown open like doors when she looked up at him. Seemingly surprised she'd said it, she continued in a hurry. "It's nothing. I just want to be alone. It was a good night, and then she brought up my mother, and I'm now reminded that when this year is over,I don't have anyone waiting for me at home."

The very thought that he had a deadline to sort things out, to miraculously prove he wasn't the massive arse he'd just made himself out to be, was the only thing that pushed him forward. "It's not nothing." He sighed. "Haven't we put one another through enough?"

Granger blinked. "What?"

"I hurt you, and you hurt me." Her head tilted to the side in confusion at that. "Haven't we had enough? What did you actually come to tell me when you found Astoria in my bed?"

She swallowed, taking a step back from him. "I have nothing to say," sShe whispered.

"Bullshite! You're just too fucking scared —"  _to admit how you feel about me._

Her mouth fell open, and he thought she was going to punch him again. "Of course I was scared, Draco!" sShe threw at him. "My feelings were growing, and so I just sabotaged everything at the first sign of trouble."

It took everything not to yank her forward right then, to ask her if he could kiss her. Still sober enough to remember that he was technically in a relationship - no matter that it was a sham - he knew she would never let it go.

"Why?" he murmured, his tongue darting out and tracing his bottom lip.

She was drunk, and it scared the hell out of him to think she was going to sprint past him, and not bother remembering because she'd never been bloody drunk in her life. "Because you scare the hell out of me," Granger whispered, crossing her arms. "Fuck, you scare the shit out of me. It doesn't matter now. —"  _Iit definitely does._ "— I know you're dating Astoria, and I've accepted that. It's just that everytime I see your stupid, pretty face I think of how we  _were,_ and what we might have ended up as. It's silly, and it doesn't matter; I think I just needed to say it outloud. For closure."

_Closure, my arse._

He cleared his throat. "Hermione, I think you may have Astoria and I all wrong," he admitted, though he didn't voice that it was because he'd led her to believe that.

She arched an eyebrow, drawing her lip in between her teeth. "You'd have me believe that she's been forcing you to fuck her? What do you take me for?"

He growled under his breath. "I know how this looks, but I can probably fix this."

"Probably?" Hermione scoffed. "Shouldn't you know that? Malfoy —"  _so we're back to that_ "— I've had enough of the back and forth. We can't —"

"Just give me a chance to fix it, all right? It's complicated. Just…... just don't fucking go anywhere," Draco muttered. "Promise me, Granger. You won't go anywhere, and you'll let me take you to cheap breakfast and explain."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay. I have the feeling I don't have a choice here, so fine. Go," Granger urged him on.

He went straight for Astoria, who if this went as he planned, certainly wouldn't be giving him the clothes she'd borrowed back. "Astoria!" he yelled, forcing his way through the crowds. The blonde turned toward him, clutching her bag in her hands as she stood out of place.

"Your friends ditched me," she said angrily, casting a dark look across the room where his friends, save for Theo, had gathered in a corner. "Where were you?"

He didn't bother with an explanation, or not a full one. "You were a cunt to one of my friends," Malfoy said, staring down at her. "This isn't going to work out."

For someone who was so abysmal in her education, she took the words for what they were the moment they left his mouth. "What? You're going to dump me over that girl? Listen, I know she was fun for a time, but she's not in your league." Astoria scoffed.

"I'm not doing this. I don't need your opinion, but this," he hissed, motioning between them, "is the worst idea I've ever had."

Her eyes filled with fake tears. "Draco..." She whimpered, staring at her shoes. "I'm sorry, can we just...?" Tori let the question dangle in the air, and when he didn't reply, she caught him by the lapels of his jacket. Pressing her lips to his roughly, he didn't have the chance to get away from her when someone slammed into him from behind.

Catching himself with her hips and yanking away as if the feel of her burned him, Draco looked around. There at the entrance of the pub, he caught the view of Granger leaving with someone.

_Fuck._

* * *

She wanted to believe him, wanted to think that they were on the cusp of something that would end in a diner while she nursed a hangover and they managed to figure things out. She'd splashed water on her face before coming out of the loo and she'd instantly caught the glimpse of them together.

Clearly nothing had changed.

If Malfoy had come after her, she was already gone once he had. Unsure of exactly where she was going she stormed out the door and decided to wing it. At some point she would make her way home, of course.

"Hermione." Theo fell into step beside her.

She shook her head. "Don't ask me if I'm okay because I'm not, and it would be nice to ignore it for now."

He nodded. "I can take you home if you like? Call a taxi and pay your way home?"

Again, she shook her head. "No, I don't want to be there either." There was an unspoken agreement that they both knew something had happened with Malfoy  _again._  She wondered if she'd finally learned her lesson, but knew that if the opportunity presented itself again to give him another shot, she'd take it. "I don't know where to go. If I rent a hotel room, Lucius and Narcissa will know. If I go home with Pansy, she'll want to know what happened."

"And you don't want to talk about it."

"Right." She steered them around the corner of the pub, making their way down the street in silence.

Theo swallowed. "My father is out of town. We have a spare room if you'd like to sleep there. I swear ﹘"

"Granger!"

She turned sharply on her heel, her eyes widening. "Malfoy? I - what are you doing here?" Theo's gaze darted between the two of them, but he said nothing. "I know I promised you to talk about this, but I don't think I can."

He dragged his hand down his face, exhaling a harsh breath. "Listen, I know exactly how that looked, but it was  _not_  what it looked like. She didn't take me dumping her well, and she did the first thing she could think of; I promise she did it because you were watching."

She chewed her bottom lip. Finally sighing, Hermione turned to Theo. "I'm sorry. I think I'll be okay after all."

He didn't look so convinced as he pinned a dark glare on Draco. "Are you certain? It's really no problem for you to stay with me so you can sort out your thoughts."

Missing the implication, she snorted. Hermione waved him off, taking a step closer to Malfoy, whose hand settled at the bottom of her back. Shaking her head, she said "Thank you for coming to my rescue anyway."

Theo still looked ready to argue until Malfoy cleared his throat. "She's not going home with you, mate. I think she made that clear. We're going for food; it's not like I'm going to hurt her," Draco said smoothly, only slight anger in his tone.

Hermione noted the way Theo arched an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"

"Enough," Hermione said quietly, taking Malfoys wrist and tugging him away. "I'm not sure why the two of you can't let go of whatever this is, but neither of you are my protector. I make my own decisions, and my decision is to leave with Draco."

Nothing else followed as Draco walked behind her.

* * *

She'd asked him if the Leaky would be acceptable since she was dying for coffee, and he'd caved. Not before muttering that he wanted to take her to breakfast so she could have proper food after drinking.

Hermione waited in the car, recognizing Pansy and Harry just inside the shop. They must have left the pub right after them. Pansy's head was tilted back in laughter before she turned in her seat as Harry pointed to Malfoy.

She didn't know what the conversation was about, but she could imagine. Pansy looked to her sitting in the car and she offered a wave. Hermione didn't know what Malfoy could have said to prevent Pansy from coming to talk to her.

When Draco exited the shop, Hermione went to him. "Let me help." she murmured, taking the two cups from his hands. Glancing at the writing - he'd had them write Princess on her cup and her stomach warmed - Draco had remembered her complete order. "When did you memorise this?" she asked, leaning across her seat to sit the cups in the cup holders. .

"I've known it for months. You're a creature of habit." He rubbed his hands together, holding them in front of the vent as his car warmed up. "Fuck, I'm glad I didn't drink," he muttered. "Eat your food, you need something in your stomach."

Hermione took the muffin from the white paper sack, wrapping it in a napkin before leaning back in her seat. "Are we going back to the manor?"

"Would you prefer to? You'd be able to get out of the conversation easier if ﹘"

She clapped a freezing hand over his mouth. Swallowing her food, Hermione shook her head. "Malfoy, I don't want to run away from you. I'd like to know what it is you have to tell me, and I'd rather not have that conversation while Pansy is staring at us."

He didn't look over his shoulder. "She's still watching us?"

"She never stopped." Hermione sipped her coffee, scalding her tongue. "Where do you want to go?"

Draco pulled away from the curb, taking the unwrapped pastry she handed him. "We could go for a walk, a short walk given how cold it is."

She nodded. "That sounds lovely. Do you have a spare jumper I could borrow? I didn't dress for anything beyond central heat."

As he came to a complete stop at a stoplight on the empty street, he rummaged around the backseat, pulling a jumper and handing it to her. "It may smell like sweat," Draco warned, actually wincing and then chuckling when she held it below his nose for him to check. "You're good," Draco muttered.

"You missed your green light." Hermione pointed out as the light turned red once more.

"Fuck."

"Distracted?" she asked, breaking off a piece of his pastry and popping it between her lips with a lopsided grin.

He fell quiet for a moment, the only sound being the quiet breeze outside, and then, "You're quite distracting if you want to know the truth."

She had nothing cheeky to reply with. Hermione leaned against the door, laying her cheek against the chilly window and finished her muffin before he pulled into the parking lot beside the park. Stepping out from the car, she glanced at her phone, deciding to leave it so she wouldn't have any distractions. Hermione left it out of sight in the center console.

Hermione clutched her drink in both hands in an attempt to keep them warm. As Draco did the same, but with only one as he shoved the other one in his pocket, she started them off. "You told me I had you and Astoria wrong," she began, bumping his arm with her shoulder as they walked across the park. The wind bit into her cheeks, colour rising to them. "What did you mean?"

He hesitated with the answer. "Before we get to that, I have a question to ask you. One that will measure how badly I reacted."

Her eyebrows raised. "Okay… I'm sure I have an answer then."

"New Years, you went outside with Theo," he stated.

"Were you watching me?"

The two of them walked below one of the several bared trees, her converse sliding against the slick grass. There was another person in the park, walking in circles around the edges, occasionally sprinting in short bursts.

He sighed at her side, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes, and I followed you."

The puzzle piece fell into place as she gasped. "You're fucking kidding me," Hermione blurted out. No, she wasn't angry he'd followed her and Theo, given that something  _did_  happen and confirmed what had likely been his worry. "I pushed him away."

"I didn't think that at the time, but I realized… that was probably the case," Malfoy muttered, bringing his cup to his lips. "So, you aren't dating Theo."

Hermione snorted, unable to control her laughter as she pushed her hair from her face. "Fuck no I'm not dating Theo! Did you believe I would just go after your best mate?" she demanded, rolling her eyes as he offered a sheepish smile. "You're a mess."

"I know," he replied, hooking an arm through hers. "I was foolish and just ﹘"

Hermione held up a hand. "While we're admitting things and we're on the subject of Theo, I would be lying if I told you I wasn't hoping it would make you jealous. I hated seeing you with Astoria."

Draco nodded, pulling her to the side before she stepped in a hole. "Fair, but seeing you with him tonight, it made me sick."

Hermione cleared her throat, glancing at him. "Why Astoria?"

Malfoy froze in place, thin strands of his hair illuminated by the light above them. "Granger ﹘" he broke off and wiped a crumb from the corner of his mouth "﹘it's not nice."

She shrugged. "I didn't expect it to be." Hermione didn't voice what she expected however. "Before we discuss Tori, I think you deserve to hear this though. I overreacted in Paris; I acted like a child, and I'm aware of my mistakes. No, I didn't like that you were ticking off my list without me knowing, but in the end all you wanted to do was fulfill my wishes. I can hardly be angry for it. It wasn't the major breach of trust I made it out to be." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "In the pharmacy, I yelled and ﹘"

He leaned down, his thumb sliding below her eye as he brushed a tear away. Softly, he murmured "In all the times we've cut each other off, I always wondered if you would stop talking if I kissed you."

Her heart pounded in her chest. "Don't do that." She forced the words out. "Anyway, I'm sorry."

He smirked, and then the expression was gone. His eyes darkened as he straightened up. "I sought Astoria out when I saw Theo snog you. I was hurt… and I knew being with her would hurt you. I didn't know at the time that it was all a misunderstanding - not that it excuses my actions."

Hermione had thought as much. It was clear over the months she'd been in England, that Draco didn't get along with the blonde, nor did he want to spend time with her. So when Astoria popped up in his bedroom, putting two and two together wasn't hard.

She swallowed, nodded, and they fell into a tense silence.

"Please forgive me?" he rasped.

She chanced a look at him. He was crestfallen, his hand moving toward her before dropping over and over and over again. "I don't think we're good for each other," Hermione whispered, for fear she might cry if she spoke any louder.

"Fuck," he growled. "I'm so fucking sorry."

She nodded. "I know. It's not that I can't forgive you." Hermione caught his hand, risking sliding her fingers through the gaps of his. "I've already forgiven you. But romantically, we're - we're toxic for the other. You said it best, that we've hurt each other." She expected that to be the end of it, not for him to give her hand a light squeeze.

"I know what I said." It wasn't a tone of agreement.

"We fight all of the time," she reasoned, stepping back onto the sidewalk.

"And we might still!" he blurted out, looking like he wanted nothing more than to yank her to him. "But that doesn't mean I want you any less, Hermione."

Her mouth dried. "What?" It was a croak, her voice barely there.

"I'm saying that I want to prove to you that I'm serious. I've wanted you since the airport, and I ﹘"

Hermione glanced at her feet, her converse covered in grass and rain. Peeking up at him again, she replied, "I'm not saying yes, and I'm not saying no."

He nodded, but easily slipped his hand into hers anyway.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the various people who talked me off the ledge this week. I know this has been, you know, confusing as fuck, but I have a story I'm happy with. Considering I still have to write it, I want to be happy with it. If at the end of the story you would like to see what it was going to be (love triangle) I'll be posting the outline on my tumblr. As always, thank you for reading. I hope I didn't disappoint and if I did...well, I'm sorry for that too!
> 
> I'm going to go ahead and thank you, the most wonderful readers in the word, for 500 reviews. It's the most I've ever had on a story. (I'm currently 4 away and I know I will forget next time if I don't say it now.
> 
> I'm about a third of the way through with the next, actually new chapter for you. 
> 
> Mrs. Ren


	18. Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If for some reason you have not read the last chapter since the rewrite, I suggest you refresh yourself quickly before you are completely confused by this chapter.

 

* * *

Hermione sat on the front porch, sipping coffee from her mug while she watched the sunrise. Pinks and reds jetted over the horizon, the light blanketing the trees.

In her lap rested a notebook, the page lazily scribbled with what she thought would be found in a young girl's diary. At Pansy's instruction, she had written an entry about the night before. She found that she wasn't able to say what she should have to Draco, her mind going blank and fizzing around the edges when he told her he didn't want to give up.

If she were honest, it warmed her heart. At the same time, she wasn't sure what he was hoping for. The fact remained that they had acted like adolescents, pushing the other over and over again instead of properly communicating.

She was determined not to do so again.

Hermione set her cup down before bunching her hair in her hand and pulling a hair tie around it. Strands slipped from the bun without pins to fasten them in place, and not in an effortlessly pretty way. She tapped her pen against the paper, her words staring back at her and her teeth dug into her bottom lip.

"Fuck, why is this so hard?"

She was an adult, Hermione reminded herself, complete with a wonderful understanding of the English language, but she  _still_  didn't know the words.

"Chilly out here, isn't it?"

Hermione jumped, narrowly missing her mug. "You scared me." she muttered, laying her forearms across the notebook as Lucius sat beside her.

He was dressed in silk, striped pajamas. There were dark circles under his eyes, and it looked like he'd only run his fingers through his hair, instead of a brush. "Apologies. What has you awake so early?"

She winced. Of course he was aware of the previous animosity and the newfound friendliness between his son and herself, but it wasn't something she wanted to talk about. Hermione could barely talk to Pansy given the way she'd changed her mind so many fucking times. "Oh, last minute studying." As if the page could be passed off as notes.

He nodded, unconvinced. "Are you awake for the same reason my son is pacing the corridor of your rooms?"

She didn't have anything to say to that, but her eyes widened. Paper crinkled as she gripped it without thinking.

"Draco is going to wear a hole in the floor in front of your room. Would you care to tell an old man what's going on in his house?" Sounding suspiciously like his wife, he held a hand out. "Let me see the notebook, Hermione. I know those aren't notes."

"It's private," she murmured weakly, her shoulders sagging. "I'm confused," Hermione admitted, glancing over her shoulder. It wouldn't be the first time Draco had walked in on a conversation, and given that he was up she couldn't be too careful.

He didn't immediately glance down when she set the notebook in his lap. "And this has something to do with Draco?"

Hermione nodded, bringing her knees to her chest. "I think we've ruined everything, but he still wants to try. I don't think we should."

One pale eyebrow lifted. "Hermione, why don't you go put on some shoes? I think this is better discussed over breakfast and away from the house." So, he  _had_  noticed the way she continually glanced over her shoulder. "He'll probably talk to you outside of your room; he must have something to say. I'll be waiting in the car—" he lifted the purple notebook "—with this. Don't dawdle for too long."

Hermione hurried inside, his low laughter trickling after her. Each step on the staircase seemed heavier as she tried to think of what she could say to Malfoy if he was still there.

He was.

"Morning," she said, her voice high pitched. Cringing, she swallowed before talking normally. It was a bad habit when she was nervous. "Um, I'm just grabbing my shoes, but Lucius said you were waiting."

The smallest bit of colour rose in his cheeks.

"Wow." She laughed, stepping away from the top of the staircase as if she was about to run. "He wasn't kidding, you were going to wear a hole in the floor."

He rolled his eyes and the world seemed to be right side up again. Draco was never sheepish; to see him embarrassed was jarring. "I'm not even sure what I wanted to say to you., he murmured.

It brought a smile to her face. "If it's any consolation, I've been outside trying to figure out what I wanted to say to you."

He didn't laugh. Draco's lips curled into a grimace. Running his fingers through unstyled hair, he opened his mouth before closing it again. "Hmmph."

Hermione blinked, catching him by the back of his shirt when he attempted to leave. She tugged hard, and he tumbled into the wall. "What did I do now?" she grumbled, her hands on her hips as he stared at her. "For the record, I didn't mean for you to hit your head."

"Are you drafting a new rejection?"

It felt like ice water had just been dumped over her head. "What?" Hermione snapped, narrowing her eyes. "You're a fucking prat, you know that? No, I'm not rejecting you, you dense fuck." Hermione shook her head and made her way into her room, not waiting for a response.

He followed her, an apology already forming on his tongue.

As she sat on the edge of her bed, she tugged the first shoe on and began tying it. "I'm not angry. You don't have to apologize."

He blinked. "You're not angry? Granger, you sounded pretty fucking angry to me."

"Alright," she conceded. "I'm a little angry, but I tend to overreact when it comes to you, so I'm working on it." Hermione exhaled a hard breath, brushing hair from her face. "If I was going to reject you, I would have," she muttered, tugging her other shoe on.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, sliding his hands into his pockets. "It's five in the morning."

"I know. Lucius is taking me to… come to think of it, I'm not sure where we're going. All I know is that we're getting food so I didn't question him." It was only half of the answer but as if on cue, her stomach growled.

Draco snorted.

Hermione looked up at him, more curls falling from her bun. "Did you remember why you were standing outside my door?"

He froze, eyes roaming over with practised ease. "I did."

Her blanket was bunched below her, strewn across the mattress from when she'd rolled out of bed an hour earlier. "Would you like to tell me what it was?" Hermione asked.

He fidgeted, a barely noticeable trait, but she knew him at this point. He hid his emotions behind what he liked to think was an impenetrable wall, but it wasn't. He wasn't as callous as he pretended to be, not with her. "Not in particular," he replied dryly.

She reached out, fingers grazing the inside of his wrist as she pulled him into the spot beside her. "It was a rhetorical question. I shouldn't keep your father waiting long, so maybe we can skip the game of cat and mouse this time?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Am I the cat or the mouse?"

"The cat," she replied, bumping his shoulder with her own. "Come on, Draco. Enough with the theatrics."

"Where is your list?" he murmured. He didn't look at her, but his hand settled on her knee, stroking the skin through her flimsy pajamas. "I know that we got off to a bad start when it comes to your bucket list, but nothing has changed for me. I still really want to help you with it."

Of all the things she thought he would say, that wasn't it. "What?" Hermione croaked, reaching up to turn his head toward her. "Fuck, Malfoy, you can't just drop shit like that on me."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed, casting a halfhearted glare at him. "I want to be angry with you, you know because I keep coming back to the thought that this is absolutely fucking impossible. And then you just, you say some of the sweetest things."

"Is it such a bad thing?" he asked, his face was millimeters from hers.

She thought he might kiss her. She also thought she might not tear away from him because really, she couldn't think of anything better right then. "I -" she squeaked as her phone rang in her back pocket and she pulled back. Hermione muted it, glancing at Lucius's name. "It's not. A bad thing, I mean," she rushed to finish.

"You're red."

"I'm  _not._ " Hermione hid her face behind her hands anyway, just in case. "This list is one of the most important things to me, Draco."

He nodded, his chin jutting out as he did so. "It makes you happy."

She shook her head. "It breaks my heart. I think of my mother writing down these things I wanted to do, and how I wish she was here fo them. Recently it made me think of you all the time, and I don't… I need you to reassure me, though I already know that this is not a passing thing, you wanting to mark off items on a list. This can't be because of a competition with Theo. It  _needs_  to be about me." Hermione pulled the knots in her hair apart, just to keep her hands busy, wincing as she did so. "That sounds so selfish hearing it outloud and -"

Her voice was muffled as he leaned forward, fingers sliding over the nape of her neck. His lips were soft against hers, and she was completely pliant as he tilted his head to the side.

Lucius was waiting, it wasn't polite to make him wait even longer.

Hermione's shaking fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him into her as she gasped. She whimpered when he pulled away, her eyes blown open like doors, and her heart beating heavily in her chest. "Draco," she murmured, hiding her face so he could not see the extent of her blush that crept down her neck. "What the fuck?"

His chest shook with low laughter against her ear. "Have you ever stopped to realize how much you fucking ramble? It's entirely adorable, but as soon as you're nervous you just start to babble. I wanted to make you stop."

She was grinning ear to ear, not that he could see it. "That's the only reason?"

Breath trailed across her ear as he sighed. "It's not even the main reason., Draco rasped. "It's about you, it's always been about you."

Hermione nodded as tears stung her eyes. "That's uncharacteristically sweet of you."

He laughing, tucking wayward curls behind her ear before he kissed her temples. "I know and I swear I won't kiss you again without express permission. I might have wanted to see if it was just like I remembered." Draco was never sappy, but she could grow used to this side of him.

"Was it?" Hermione whispered, fingers dancing along the hem of his shirt.

"Honestly?" he asked, pausing just long enough for her heart to sink. "I'm having a difficult time not begging you to let me do it again right now."

She giggled. "You are not and flattery will get you nowhere. I should go." It had only been ten minutes, she reassured herself. It wasn't long at all for Lucius to wait. "About the list -"

He cut her off, the bed shifting below her as he stood. "Just think about it."

As if she would be thinking of anything else.

* * *

Lucius was smirking when she finally slid into the car. "What did he have to say for himself? Perhaps a grand apology? He's watched me grovel at Cissa's feet whenever she's angry so he knows how to get back into your good graces."

She grinned. "How many times have you had to grovel?"

He shrugged. "Enough to know when to cut my losses." Lucius gripped the steering wheel casually with one hand, pulling into the slowest lane of traffic. "I think breakfast sounds good, don't you? I'm famished."

She nodded, knowing that he wasn't. Not when he'd said a handful of hours earlier that he wouldn't be able to eat after their large dinner. Still, Hermione appreciated his getting her out of the house. As she melted into the warm leather seats, she leaned her forehead against the window, mindlessly counting street lamps as they passed them.

It had been a week since Draco took her for a walk in the park, bearing the truth. She was still irritated with his  _you have the wrong idea about Astoria and I_  speech. No, he'd told his best friend - aside from Theo, which was still another story - that he  _was_  dating Astoria in as many words. He didn't want to admit the scope of just how badly he'd fucked up by not thinking ahead. Hermione was content to let it go for now.

The parking lot of the restaurant was almost empty, save for the staff parking and two older automobiles parked by the door. Parking in the middle, not too near the street and not too near the other cars, Lucius pulled the keys from the ignition. He sounded just like her father when he muttered under his breath. "Never park too close unless you want them to bang your doors."

Hermione grinned, unbuckling herself and sliding out of the car. She landed in a puddle, one that splashed directly into her shoes.  _Wet socks, great._  She followed him, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle and ducking her head down to avoid the wind that bit at her cheeks.

"Pick a seat," Lucius told her. "I'll be right back."

While he went to the loo, she picked a spot beside the window, in clear view of the car. Hermione rested her face on her knuckles as she peered down at her phone. There was a text from Draco; her heartbeat quickened as she opened the notification.

 _I feel like I should apologize again for snogging you._ It had been sent six minutes ago, so he was probably still awake.

 _I don't think you want to apologize at all. I think you wanted an excuse to talk to me after I left. Am I right?_ Hermione pressed send, dropping her phone back to the table. Unaware she was beaming, her mood picking up from debating his words over the list, her mobile vibrated against the table.

Heads turned at the sound. An old man at the bar sneered at her, his dark eyes catching in the light before he turned back to a mug—it closely resembled the size of a bowl—of coffee.

She set it to silent before ducking her head down to look, unable to put her phone away. Hermione wouldn't be so distracted when Lucius returned from the loo, she reassured herself.

_Fuck, you're such a swot._

_I've been called worse._

"Careful," came Lucius' dry voice. He shrugged out of his jacket, laying it over the back of the booth. "If you keep grinning, your face will get stuck like that."

She flushed and put her phone away. "My dad used to say that," Hermione said, catching sight of a waitress coming to their table. "You say a lot of the same things."

"Morning," she began cheerfully, pulling a pad from her apron and clicking her pen. Honey blonde hair was tucked into a messy bun, strands falling and framing her face. Hermione had never managed to get hers to look quite as cute. "What can I get you to drink?"

"I'll take coffee," Hermione said as a menu was laid in front of her.

"Earl Grey, thank you. We'll need a few minutes." Lucius gave her a smile and nodded to her as she left. "How are your classes?"

"They're going well. I never thought I would say it, but I miss Professor Slughorn a little bit. Professor Snape is downright intimidating. 'Turn to page 394.'" She imitated his voice, her rendition much higher than the low octaves of his tone.

Lucius chuckled, flipping to the second page of the menu. "If he sounds like that, I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. Pancakes sound good."

She only nodded, running her finger down the inside of her menu as she debated. By the time the waitress bounded back to their table, Hermione said she only wanted eggs with a side of toast. "I'm not as hungry as I thought," she admitted to Lucius.

He rolled his eyes before ordering the biggest meal they had for himself. "Cissa won't be happy we've spoiled our breakfast."

Hermione snorted. "Technically we didn't spoil it, we just ate without her."

His lips curved. "It will give her a chance talk to Draco."

She froze. Hermione's eyes narrowed as she poured creamer into her coffee. "The two of you planned this."

Lucius wore an innocent smile, the exact one his son had displayed on occasion. "Guilty as charged."

"What if I hadn't been awake? What if you hadn't found me on the porch?" she asked. She stirred her coffee with a spoon, the edge of the utensil sounding against the sides of the cup.

"I was planning to wake you and tell you how you were taking the day off from classes. Bring Your Child to Work day and all that," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling while he held in a laugh. "Which you are, by the way—taking the day off. You're working yourself to death."

He wasn't wrong. Since talking with Draco, and not saying yes or no, her course load was the best distraction. "I have an exam to take for Professor Snape today."

"Not to worry, he'll let you sit for it this afternoon. I have it on good authority he was planning to give you a different version of the test - one that still covered the subject matter, but alternate questions - so when you discussed it with your peers, you would believe you'd failed."

Hermione glared at him. "That's a cruel and unusual way to get back at me for the air horn," she muttered. She blew on her coffee, the surface rippling from the edge. "He knows his enemy."

He crossed his arms on the table, his sleeves rolled up. "Severus can be a prick. Enough about him though, I think you need to tell me what's going on."

There was no harshness in his voice to entail she was in trouble, but her heart sank anyway. Her host family had been so accommodating, excluding Draco at times, but how might Lucius react if he knew just how badly she had behaved in Paris? It was the first thing her mind fixated on, and then the scene in the pharmacy. She was already so ashamed, Hermione couldn't imagine Lucius being disappointed in her as well.

"It's awkward." Hermione's voice cracked. "I'm not sure you want to hear about it."

He smiled kindly, his eyes much softer than Draco's ever had been, and laid his hand on hers. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know. I've heard firsthand all of the things my son has done when it comes to the opposite sex."

She glanced down. "I wouldn't want you to think any less of me for taking your hospitality and turning it on its head by -"

"Stop," he said. "You're putting too much thought into this. I'm not going to think any less of you. As far as I am concerned, you are my child."

She grimaced and went for humor to lighten the mood. "That would make things pretty awkward considering your son and I."

He huffed. "Fine, not my child, but as good as. Start wherever you like as we have plenty of time."

 _Where to start?_ "Well, it all started when I was born…"

He flicked a sugar packet at her. "Sarcasm will get you nowhere," Lucius muttered.

"Fine. I hated Draco right from the beginning. He was an arsehole to me when I got off the plane and saying we got off on the wrong foot would be putting it mildly. I didn't know why he didn't like me, but as it turns out, he's just like that?"

Lucius snorted, nodding.

"And then I didn't know he was meant to take me to the London Eye, and I had no idea he had seen my bucket list. In hindsight, I feel stupid for not picking up on it sooner. Even then I was being put in the middle of Theo and Draco. I didn't know they'd had a feud over a girl before, or I would have bowed out of it before it amounted to anything. Theo is my friend. Anyway—" she shook her head, trying to stay on the track of telling everything in order "—I slapped Draco that night of my birthday. I don't remember what he said, but it was shitty."

He cleared his throat. "I remember when he came downstairs. There was an angry, red welt across his cheek in the shape of your hand. Cissa wasn't pleased with him."

"For all she knew he hadn't done anything wrong."

"Draco was upfront with us when it came to the truth. She didn't let him have an ice pack when he told her he made you cry."

It was surprising to hear just what went on behind the scenes of their lives. "After that, he took me to get a tattoo," Hermione murmured. "He was a lot of fun after that, nothing like how he'd been. He made me laugh all the time. Then it was when Narcissa collapsed that we really changed." Hermione's eyes watered, the memory of her crumpling to the floor still fresh. "This is really awkward to talk about it."

He smiled behind his cup. Lucius set it down, twisting his wedding ring around his finger. "As entertaining as it is to watch you struggle, I'll save you the trouble. If you're reaching for ways to explain how the two of you slept together when I sent you home, I already know."

Hermione squeaked. "I -  _how?_ "

Lucius tapped the table, glancing at the hanging light above their table that swayed everytime the door opened. "Photo albums on the wall. You two forgot to put them back up. Narcissa is the one who put it together, I had no desire to know."

"I think the feeling is mutual." Hermione winced. "We decided that it was just one day where everything was awful and we needed human contact."

"Logical. Tell me, how did that go for you?"

She glared at him, picking at her fingernails. "It went terribly."

"Oh, no." He feigned surprise, lifting a hand to his heart in a move his wife would have been impressed by.

"Waitress is coming," she muttered, lifting her cup so she could set her plate down.

With only a few pleasantries exchanged, the waitress returned to the counter.

"We went to the party for Slug Club. More things happened, Astoria, but that's not really important." Thankfully, she watched him nod as he took the hint. He knew they'd slept together; Hermione didn't think the exact details of what happened in Lockhart's office were important. "Then there was Paris."

He bit into his muffin, eyes widening. Quickly swallowing, he asked "What happened on the Eiffel Tower?"

Hermione took a bite of her still-warm food before continuing. "He was going to kiss me, and we slipped on the ice. We both fell, and all was well until I noticed his wallet had fallen out of his pocket. It was not big deal. I would just pick it up and return it to him. Then I noticed the folded paper, and I could read through the back of it: Visit the London Eye, and there was a line drawn through it."

"Bollocks," he grumbled.

"I reacted badly. By the next morning I was hungover from a bottle of wine -"

He choked. "I want you to know I almost had a bloody heart attack when I saw that charge. It was Flourish and Blotts, shoes, fairy lights, and then expensive wine. I thought Narcissa had stolen your card."

"For three hundred pounds, I felt it should have tasted better, but that's not relevant right now. I was angry. He gave me this—" she pulled the necklace from her collar "—then we were home and I absolutely lost it in the middle of the pharmacy."

"Oh, I heard. Horace called me."

Hermione hid her face in her hands, her eyes watering. "So, after that, I went to Pansy. I was going to apologize to him after New Years, but I didn't know he'd seen it— Theo had kissed me at midnight. When I went to apologize, Astoria was naked in his bedroom."

"I see."

"He thought I was dating Theo."

"He tends to jump to the worst conclusions. I think both of you did that. Well, evidently something has changed in the last week. My son is looking at you differently." Lucius glanced out the window, the sun rising higher and higher into the morning sky. "I'm not going to tell you how he looks at you, Hermione. You need to pull your head out of your arse and notice."

She was stunned.

"Quite frankly, you both need to pull your heads out of your arses. You are an incredible young woman, and I'm proud you are a member of my family."

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair before resting her cheek in her palm. "We were at the Shrieking Shack last weekend. To make a long story full of useless background short, Astoria called my mum some… less than stellar things. I threw a drink at her. I ran off to the loo. I wasn't expecting Draco to come find me."

Lucius let his fork fall to his plate as he solely focused on her.

"I don't know if it was a fight, per se, but he convinced me that we needed to talk. So I waited for him. I saw Astoria dig her claws into him again and I left. I was so sure he was just lying to me for no reason. Theo was going to let me sleep at his house -"

His hand curled into a fist and he blinked several times. "Forgive me for interrupting, but Theo invited you to stay at his house? Why wouldn't you have come home?"

Eyes darting to his physical reaction, it felt like lead had formed in her stomach. "I didn't want to run into Draco. Theo was - is a friend I trust."

Lucius shook his head. "I'm not angry with you, nor am I disappointed in you. On the other hand, since I like to consider myself as your bonus father, I have difficulty believing he didn't have ulterior motives."

She hadn't thought of it that way, not even once, not even as Draco had growled she wasn't going home with Theo. Her eyes widened, and her voice caught in her throat. "I hadn't thought he would," she managed.

"I understand that. I've known Theodore since he was a child and I am furious with him." Lucius' brows were drawn together, his eyes visibly darker as they narrowed and his hand was curled into a loose fist on the table.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip. She didn't think herself as naive, but when he put it that way, it was hard not to wonder. "I didn't leave with him," she blurted out. "Draco came after me, and we left. He bought me coffee and we went to a park to talk. I think we solved the bulk of our issues, the main being miscommunication, but I still don't think we're good for the other."

Lucius ran a hand through his hair. "I know he didn't take that well, and you might not like to hear this, but you're right. At the moment, neither of you are good for the other. You fight like cats and dogs. I already know he slept with that girl to hurt you, which is inexcusable."

"I told him I wasn't saying yes or no to trying -"

He held a finger up. "Please let me finish, love. I'm not saying you'll always be toxic for the other, but you have some growing to do. My son is as arse more often than not, which is not an excuse to hide his emotions behind insults."

Hermione folded her hands in her lap, shrinking in on herself while it felt like she was being chastised. "He's different around me."

"I think as long as the two of your focus on the miscommunications, several things will fall into place. As long as you  _want_ them to fall into place." he paused. "You said you didn't tell him yes or no?"

Hermione smiled. "I think the yes was implied."

"Hmm," he said. Lucius sipped his tea, taking advantage of the long pause as he set the cup down. "Then I do have another piece of advice: you'd better make him work for that chance."

She choked.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit shorter than normal, but this was a good stopping place. For the next chapter I have to be funnier than I normally am, which is a struggle, but hopefully a new chapter will be up in the next week or two.


	19. Meet In the Middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the best alpha/beta in the world, CourtingInsanity, for editing this earlier this morning. We don't have much left in the grand scheme of things. Maybe 4-5 chapters that I really hope I can just bang out and complete this. They've had the conflict, they're more or less figuring out how to be together now and what all that entails.
> 
> Warning that doesn't really need to be said but I'll cover myself. Cards Against Humanity. Some really terrible jokes.
> 
> Thank you for reading as always! I can't wait to hear what you think. :)

 

* * *

The sheets were still warm as he crawled back between them, casting one last look at his bedroom door. He wasn't hopeful that Granger would give a tentative knock - well, that wasn't quite true. He did wish that, but Draco wasn't willing to face the reasons why. Like how even when she was cross with him, he still liked to be near her. Or the fact that he still vividly recalled the feel of her lips pressing against his.

It wasn't that his lips tingled or some other whimsical bullshit. No, it's just that he would have preferred to do it over and over again until he coaxed a quiet whimper from her. That particular train of thought would only land him in a cold shower, and whether he liked it or not, he was fucking exhausted.

With the sound of his father's automobile bleeding into the background of what was otherwise a quiet morning, his head hit the pillow. Draco fell asleep swiftly, the bed dipping beneath his weight and he slid his arm under the pillow.

The door swung open and there was a rustling sound, like towels and his discarded shirts being gathered. Draco groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Mum," he muttered before yanking the blanket higher over his head. "A maid will gather the laundry when I get up."

He was burying his face into the pillow when she replied. "Oh." He could imagine her flippantly waving her hand. "Not to worry, dear. Go back to sleep. I think I'll make breakfast this morning. What would you like?"

In hindsight, his mother was often kind and she made breakfast every day, but there was a sharp edge to her voice that went unnoticed. In a dreamy, daft sort of voice, he shrugged and twisted himself into his bedding. "Anything is fine, but maybe an extra ration of bacon?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

Had he not been so tired, Draco probably would have found the endearment peculiar. She called him love, or dear, and on occasion, his mother had called him a shitehead in the past when he acted like a complete and utter twat.

She did  _not_  call him sweetheart.

"Thanks, Mum." he yawned. He attempted to curl back into the blankets even as his blood ran cold. She was furious for whatever reason, and he realized he would be having breakfast with an angry woman. All he wanted to do was fucking sleep.

Draco was nearly to sleep, and there was a soft snigger on the edge of his dreams. Then he was lurched from his bed, completed with a scream that almost certainly didn't come from  _his_  mouth. The blanket was ripped out from under him, a quick movement that had him tumbling over the edge, and slamming onto the floor, his knee banging against the bed frame. Draco lifted his head, half worried he might see stars.

His mother's hands were on her hips, her lips pressed into a thin and unamused line. "Good morning."

"Did you just—?" He scratched the back of his head.. "Did you just throw me out of my bed?"

She looked as if she wanted to smile, but her lips didn't quirk up and it was a clear sign that he was in serious trouble. "Be downstairs in ten minutes for breakfast, shitehead."

His eyes shot open as he froze in the movement of propping himself up on his elbows. "I beg your pardon?"

His mother rolled her eyes. "And I would beg you not to act like you do, but." She shrugged. "Ten minutes," she reminded him, breezily moving toward his bedroom door. She stopped and tossed a look over her shoulder. "Also, there will be no extra rations of bacon." The door closed quietly behind her in stark contrast to the previous theatrics.

Sitting up, Draco crossed his legs as he reached for his mobile. Texting her wasn't a great idea, but it wasn't a terrible one either. They were getting along. He'd snogged her and she'd reciprocated. That was something. So he typed a message, only to have her point out that he merely wanted to talk to her.

He grumbled beneath his breath before tossing his mobile onto his bed. Draco tugged a white shirt over his head before making his way down the stairs in his pajamas. He could smell coffee, and he could hear the kettle whistling from the kitchen. Draco wasn't so daft not to realise what was most likely the source of her ire. Granger.

Draco carefully and silently slid into the kitchen, foolishly hoping she wouldn't notice him, but she waved to the seat in front of her. He groaned low under his breath as she snapped her fingers and pointed to the empty chair. He was frowning as he slid into the seat across from his mother.

"Morning," he said cooly, and his mother peeked at him over the edge of her mug. Swallowing, he added, "Would you like to tell me why you're cross with me?"

A full-blown smile crossed her features. "So darling of you to ask, Draco. I think I would like to discuss it. You won't be able to use the excuse that Hermione may overhear since she's out with your father."

His stomach dropped. Nothing about this sounded good for him. "You want to talk about Granger?"

"Calling her by her surname doesn't mask how much you care for her," she said smoothly with a smirk that barely curved her lips. "Yes, I'd like to talk about Hermione, but more importantly I'd like to discuss what's been going on these last few months. Your father convinced me to stay out of it until now."

Draco fell silent. He stared at his hands, stretching them and pretending to be interested in the way the light reflected against his ring. "I'm not sure how to say this without being rude, but it's not your business."

She nodded. "As your mother, I full heartedly disagree. As the woman stepping into Hermione's life when her mother is no longer able to be here, I still disagree. Nothing would please me more than to know what caused her to cry herself to sleep on the couch the last few weeks, even if it turns out to be my son."

He gritted his teeth. "She cried?"

"Why do you think she was sleeping on the couch? Surely you must have thought of that when you invited that girl into our home, into your bedroom which is right across the corridor from hers? I'm not so old fashioned that I don't realize unattached sex occurs. I'm not so naive to believe you haven't done exactly that recently, but your time with Hermione wasn't so unattached, was it?" HIs mother sipped her coffee.

His cheeks filled with heat. "That's  _definitely_ none of your business," Draco hissed.

"Oh!" She laughed delicately. "I agree. I don't care to know that you've slept together. Unfortunately, the sexual tension has been palpable. I have to ask, did you think you were being subtle? With your, 'what the bloody hell do you want, Granger?', 'Oh? You're just a fucking danger magnet, aren't you?' I won't force your hand by making you admit it, but you and I both know that you not-so-secretly adore saving her."

Draco's jaw was tight. His hand curled into a fist and his knee bumped against the underside of the table. "I don't sound like that."

"You really do." She smiled ear-to-ear, gripping her mug with both hands. "It's just me, Draco. You are not a brick wall because you are a man. You're allowed to have emotions. Quite frankly, I'm not always sure why you decided to close yourself off. That's my fault though; as your parent, I should have noticed."

"You're a wonderful mother," Draco murmured, his voice softening a bit. "I'm not sure what to say."

She rose from her seat, her robe dragging along the tiles as she pulled the kettle from the stovetop. "Let's start from the beginning," Narcissa replied as she set a cup in front of him.

He didn't like that either. "I wasn't acting like a dick. She cared for me more than I deserved." Draco shrugged. "I used that list to get closer to her each day, but that didn't go so well for me either. It's ridiculous because she's wormed her way right under my skin, and acts as if she knows me better than anyone else."

His mother raised a pale brow. "Does she?"

He swallowed, the bitter taste of Earl Grey meeting his taste buds. "She's got me bloody well pegged. Ginny might know more about me even so, but Granger bumped Theo from his best mate slot."

She smiled. "Theo fancies her."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Yes."

"It's driven a wedge between the two of you. That's hardly fair," his mother said carefully, watching his reaction.

If she was impressed with his ability to stop himself from snapping, he didn't see it. "The pair of them are good friends, and that doesn't bother me. What irritated the fuck out of me is last week, she was drunk and he offered to take her home with him."

His mother fell silent. "Oh," she murmured, schooling her features and sipping her coffee. "Do you think his intentions were —?"

Draco cut her off, pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning. "I don't know. I don't intend to ask him if he would have shagged her. That's all beside the point."

"Then—" she clicked her tongue and fixing him with a hard look "—what is the point? This is why I told Lucius he should talk to Hermione and I should speak with you. You're stubborn, and I'm almost certain you inherited that trait from the Blacks."

Granger was discussing this -  _him, them, whatever -_ with his father. She would undoubtedly be wearing her heart on her sleeve, and pouring her heart out. Malfoy exhaled a hard breath. "I'm not talking about —"

"— the sex. Thank you for that," his mother quipped.

"She and I were something, not enough for a label, but we'd already crossed the line of remaining platonic. I'm not sure where it was going, but the copy of the list fell out of my wallet on top of the Eiffel Tower. It went worse than I expected." Which was saying something since he'd always thought she'd be livid. "We had a fight. She left, and we barely spoke until we visited the pharmacy for you."

His mother frowned. "I'd hoped the opportunity might push the two of you to work it out, but Horace called your father."

Draco didn't make direct eye contact. "So there was that." He nodded. "And then Granger was too angry to even look at me. During the party you hosted for New Years, I noticed her leave with Theo."

"Oh, Draco." she sighed, her eyes shooting open and her fingers clenching her cup. "Please, please tell me you didn't follow them. Not that I think Hermione would do anything but—"

"Right," he muttered, running fingers through his messy hair and staring at the table in front of him. "Theo snogged her at midnight, and if I had stayed there, I would have seen her push him away."

His mother, for once, was silent. Her features had paled and her lips were curled in a grimace. "Draco, what did you do after you saw that?"

"Nothing honorable." He groaned. It felt so much worse admitting it outloud, but the time for being a complete coward had passed. "I found Astoria because I knew Granger hated her. Even if she never admits it, she's bloody jealous of the girl."

Narcissa sighed his name, letting her head fall into her hands. "Well, that certainly explains things. How did you learn she wasn't dating Theo? Honestly!" she snapped, her eyes flickering toward him. "How could you believe she would do that?"

He grumbled a non committal response and waved her off. Draco wasn't interested in admitting just how low his confidence had slipped when it came to Granger. And he didn't want to fucking admit how badly his pride was bruised when he discovered he'd been wrapped up in a delusion either.

"Draco."

He clenched his fist below the table, casting a hard look toward the ceiling. "I was hurt," he said, bouncing his knee anxiously. "I've never been forthcoming and then it was—it was like 'fuck, what have I done?' Have you ever felt that?" He was rambling. It wasn't like him. He wanted it to stop, much like this conversation.

Draco blew out a breath. "I found out later, but only after Hermione knocked on my door, said she wanted to apologize for overreacting. Can you imagine? She wanted to apologize to me, and then she instantly regretted it as Astoria came to the door."

Narcissa's disappointment mirrored exactly what Hermione's had been. "You can fix this. You made a mistake. We all fall down, Draco." She reached out to take his hand that was still resting on the table, brushing her thumb across his knuckles. "Fall down seven times, stand up eight."

She'd said the little mantra when he was a child, still in primary and muttering about rugby as he stomped around the manor.

"That doesn't apply here," he said. "This is about her, not rugby."

She grinned, pinching his knuckle and earning a yelp from him as he snatched his hand back. "You think so little of yourself, little Dragon. She's looking at you differently this week. It surprised me at first."

He snorted. "Had you gotten used to her wanting to kill me?"

She gave a soft laugh. "While watching the two of you bicker over breakfast isn't the best way to start the morning, it always promises to be entertaining. What happened?"

He gritted his teeth. "I told you. We were at the Shrieking Shack together."

She shook her head, waving her finger. "Tsk, tsk. You told me Theo wanted to take her home. You never mentioned what happened between the two of you."

Draco laid his head on the table, letting his forehead smack against it. "I broke up with Astoria," he muttered, his voice muffled. "Granger and I had a talk in the bathroom. She promised to give me a chance to explain."

"In the bathroom?" she asked.

"I chased after her."

"Oh." She was definitely smiling ear-to-ear this time. "How valiant."

If she weren't his mother, he would have muttered for her to shut up already. "She was leaving when I got Astoria off of me. She agreed to leave with me. I bought her coffee and we took a walk in the park. I groveled through an apology, and she told me that we shouldn't give this another try."

Narcissa hummed, combing her fingers through his hair. "Hermione wouldn't say that without a reason. She's crazy about you."

He lifted his head just barely, and peeked up at her. "She explained that we were bad for each other. And she isn't wrong, rarely is. She's afraid us hurting the other will become a cycle and—"

"I don't believe I've ever told you to stop and take a breath, but you need to breathe, Draco," she cut in. "Hermione had every right to be scared of what it means to attempt a relationship right now. You did a terrible thing with Astoria if the only reason you slept with her was to hurt Hermione."

"I know," he rasped.

"Was it the only reason?"

"It was a mistake."

"I'm certainly glad to hear you think that, but you didn't answer my question."

He growled under his breath. "That's the only reason why. It's so fucking stupid. I know I'm bad for her, but I want her anyway."

Narcissa continued to hum, still stroking his hair. "You've put it into your head that you're a terrible man. You're not. You are my son, and we didn't raise you that way." she paused. "Pick your head up, Draco."

She slid her hand under his chin and made him look up at her.

"What?" he muttered.

His mother might have been angry when she'd dumped him out of bed, but it seemed it had passed. If only for a moment. "You do realize that she wants you, don't you?"

He was distinctly reminded of how her lips felt below his not even an hour earlier. Soft, pliant, and when they moved against his—

Draco nodded. "I know, but there is some truth to what she's said. I've been a shitty friend to her, to Theo—"

His mother drained her coffee. "Then apologize, but not with your words. Use your actions. Theo has been in your life for so long, and he's worth patching things up for."

"And her?"

His mother lifted a napkin to her mouth. "Well, admittedly my first idea ended with the two of you nearly bringing my house down around my ears. This time we'll be better. It's quite simple."

He recognized that look, devious, plotting. "What would you have me do, Mother?"

Narcissa beamed, brushing hair over her shoulder. "You woo her. Easy."

Draco's mouth fell open. "You're using that word, but I don't think you know what it means."

Later, after plans had been discussed, Draco texted Hermione.

_How did your talk go?_

She responded almost immediately.

_I am not talking about this right now. You parents know we had sex._

_Shouldn't have left your knickers strewn about._

_MAYBE IF SOMEONE HADN'T RIPPED THEM OFF OF ME!_

He roared with laughter as he sat beside his mother on the couch.

* * *

There was a line. There was herself and there was Draco Malfoy. In her neatly cut life, she would have liked for everything to make sense.

Except the line between platonic, and definitely not platonic was fucking missing.

She had meant it when she said they were toxic, that the were bad for one another. And even still, she was ate up with worry that it would never change. But - that didn't change the fact that she wanted this, wanted  _him_  and had for months now. So when his hand had found hers in the car, she allowed it, reveled in it even as she laced her fingers through his. It was some sort of silent agreement, one that he didn't push his luck with by holding her hand outside the car.

The again, the second Theo walked up to their group, Draco had silently made it incredibly clear of his intentions.  _Men._  They would talk about the silently marking later.

Hermione sat at the table, her chin propped up by her palm as she read through her notes. She was due to retake her exam with Professor Snape, and she wanted to be sure she understood each and everything so that if he  _did_  try to trick her, she would go in with confidence.

Concentration was difficult as Draco's finger traced a circled over the bare skin that had been exposed by a hole in her jeans. His chin was resting on her shoulder as he read over her shoulder. Hermione couldn't complain about the attention, considering she hadn't discouraged him.

Rather, she'd leaned into him,

"Don't confuse these two," he whispered into her ear, pointing to a passage. "I sat for this two years ago with him and he'll probably use the same questions."

Hermione turned her head. "Don't tell me what they are. I want to earn my marks."

Pansy was watching them from behind her phone, and she was doing a bang up job of going unnoticed.

He chuckled. "I'm aware. I'm just giving you the heads up to read each question carefully."

"Draco." Pansy laid her phone on the table. "This weekend would be good."

He nodded. "Potter's able to make it then?"

Pansy grinned, her stare flicking between Draco and Hermione. "Yes, he's looking forward to it."

"I'll let everyone else know then."

Hermione looked up at him, hyper aware of how he felt pressed into her side. "What are the two of you talking about?"

"Surprise," he murmured, burying his chin in her shoulder once more. "Flip the page."

"Your face is abnormally pointy." Hermione huffed, flipping the page.

"Have you seen your hair?"

Hermione jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

* * *

"You invited everyone?" Hermione choked. "Why?" The corridor was silent save for them. All of their friends were milling around in the living room. "Draco?"

He slid his hands into his pockets. "I thought it would be more comfortable for you, being around me I mean, if we were with friends. I came on rather strong, but I wouldn't want you to feel pressured."

She nodded. "I just would have expected you to arrange a pub crawl rather than a card game," Hermione replied.

He was biting his bottom lip and rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah." He sighed. "Normally I would, but that wouldn't be thoughtful. Pansy is pregnant and she wouldn't enjoy a pub crawl. You're at ease with her around and I couldn't—what? You're staring at me."

Hermione blinked. "I was just thinking about how I could kiss you." She turned on her heel and hurried down the stairs despite his protests following her. "Move along, Malfoy. It's impolite to keep the others waiting," she called over her shoulder.

He muttered that there were certain things he would like to do that weren't pleasant at all. Hermione's skin flushed and her breath came in short pants, but she continued to hurry down the curving staircase without stopping.

Theo was standing near the sofa, his hands tucked into his pockets as he spoke to Lucius. Immediately, Hermione's heart clenched as she watched the blond man guide Theo from the sitting room with a strong hand on his shoulder, steering him toward his office.

"I'll have Theodore back before you get settled." Lucius nodded to Hermione and Draco, winking at her before leading their mutual friend down the corridor.

Hermione was frozen in place. "Do you think we could hear them through the door?"

Draco shook his head. "Doubtful. Do you know what's going on?"

Hermione picked at her nails while she gnawed her lip. "Lucius was upset that Theo planned to take me home with him. As upset as any father would be if he believed that, well, you know." Her cheeks were pink and she stared at her Converse. "The others must be in the kitchen. Shall we?"

Draco caught her by her wrist, his thumb grazing her pulse. "Are you too shy to talk about shagging?" he chuckled, bending down to eye level. "If you're too embarrassed to talk about it, you shouldn't be doing it."

She rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder. "No, I'm not embarrassed, but we're also not talking about my sex life." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and glared. "Even if we were, you're just trying to get a reaction out of me."

He shrugged, smirking, and took a step toward her. "Well done. You caught me, Granger. You're captivating when you're angry, and when you're blushing. The best way to do either of those is riling you up and for some reason, your blush is uncontrollable when I say the word—"

Hermione clapped her hand over his mouth, grimacing when he licked the centre of her palm. "Gross. Don't talk about shagging anymore."

"Why are we talking about shagging?"

Hermione jumped into Draco, smacking her forehead against his, and whimpering in pain. "Fuck." She rubbed her forehead.

Harry was standing behind them, a neatly cut sandwich half in his hand. "You should be more careful, 'Mione."

She glared. "You scared me."

"Moving on—" Harry swallowed, throwing his hands up dramatically "—if we're talking about shagging, the responsible thing to do would be to discuss what happens after. You see, when a man and woman love each other very much—er—" he glanced between the two of them "—right, when a man and woman love each other very much—"

"You are so fucking pissed." Malfoy's chest rumbled with laughter. He stepped around her, clapping Harry on the back and leading him into the kitchen.

Hermione recognized that Draco was ending an awkward situation, giving her space, but she was left with more questions that revolved around emotions which seemed to grow stronger each time Draco was near.

* * *

Hermione Granger had never played Cards Against Humanity. The game title alone left her confused and she could only stare as Theo unboxed a large deck of cards. Pansy sat at her side, leaving little room for Hermione to slide away from Draco.

"So, how do we play?" Hermione asked.

Theo's smile was small. "Well, we need to decide who will be the Card Czar first. Who took a shite last?"

Hermione choked on her water. "I beg your pardon?" She gasped as Draco hit her on the back. "You know, that's not really all that helpful."

"Whoops."

Now Theo was grinning ear to ear. "Sorry, love. It's in the rules. Whoever soiled themselves last will be the Card Czar."

What the fuck kind of game was this? After everyone had willingly offered timestamps of their bowel movements, Pansy sold her out. "I know for a fact that Hermione went to the bathroom right after Theo. About that, did Lucius scare the shite out of you?"

Theo said nothing, but his jaw tightened.

"Pansy!" Hermione hissed.

Harry spoke up from his place between Pansy and Luna. "Don't be shy. Everyone poops."

Ginny rolled her eyes and sniggered into her glass. "That oddly sounds like it came from a parenting book," she said as she lay her head on Blaise's shoulder. "Take the cards, Hermione and we'll get started."

She leaned over the table and snatched the black cards from Theo's outstretched hand. "Alright." Hermione took the instructions, silently reading to herself and preparing for the ridiculous answers that were sure to come.

After everyone had ten white cards—Draco, Pansy, Luna, Ginny, Blaise, Harry, and Theo—Hermione settled into her spot in the dining room table. Her brows nearly shot into her hairline. "What in the world?" she muttered. Hermione read directly from the card out loud. "I drink to forget blank." She lay the card down.

After everyone had submitted their cards, she shuffled them while looking away - staring directly at Draco in the process. "Right then," she continued. "It says for effect that I should reread the black card so. "I drink to forget pregnant women—Harry, was this you?"

Pansy snorted. "He'd better hope it wasn't."

"I drink to forget going in dry. Odd, okay." Hermione sniggered. "I drink to forget auto-erotic asphxiation. What the fuck?"

"That statement is a staple in this game," Blaise said.

"I drink to forget a one in a million tumor." She paused a bit at that. "Probably not going to pick that one. I drink to forget fancy tampons made from brillo pads. Whoever picked this one is definitely not a woman. I drink to forget—oh, for fuck's sake!" She burst into laughter. Hermione had to restart after Draco nudged her. "I drink to forget sucking twelve oysters out of your grandmother's vagina."

Everyone around her fell into laughter. Ginny nearly spilled her water across the table. Pansy bumped her shoulder and told her that one  _had_ to be the funniest of the bunch.

While Hermione agreed, she held up the last card. "We have one more. I drink to forget Tom Baker, in nothing but a scarf." Hermione giggled at that one, but declared the oysters that need not be repeated at the winner.

Theo slapped his hand down, reclaiming his card and grinned smugly.

* * *

Irritated that he wasn't winning when it came to the round where she was the Card Czar, Draco set out to distract her instead. No matter what she was saying, if she was halfway through her sentence, he was touching her.

His fingers slid along her inner thigh. "Quit it." she hissed under her breath as Ginny and Blaise went to refill their drinks.

His lips skimmed her ear. "Do you want me to?"

"Well, not really." Granger's cheeks were red.

"Didn't mean to say that outloud, did you? No one heard." he murmured against her ear.

His hands didn't stray far, no where near the apex of her thighs, which she'd half expected. Malfoy tickled her sides instead, sometimes stroking her thigh as if just to be touching her.

Theo won the second, the third, and as it turned out, he'd just won the fourth round of cards she'd dished out. Pansy had actually choked on her own saliva as Hermione read, "When I was tripping on acid, a cooler full of organs turned into free samples."

And then there was the fifth, which was a  _terrible_  joke she felt equally terrible for laughing at. "With enough time and pressure, an ether-soaked rag will turn into some goddamn peace and quiet." Hermione openly gaped as Draco plucked that one from her hand.

"I'd say it was about time for my win."

It was a bad display of sportsmanship when Theo scoffed. "Sure. but I'm still ahead of you."

Hermione frowned. "It doesn't need to be a competition." It went unnoticed that Hermione's fingers brushed Draco's thigh, which shut him up immediately. The next winner was oddly reminiscent of life in your early twenties. "This is the prime of my life. I'm young, hot, and full of poor life choices."

Theo pulled that one from her hand.

Unfortunately, Pansy's health took a sharp, but perfectly normal turn. "I'm so sorry. I think I should go home," she said, laying her cards down. She was covering her mouth and eyeing the trash. "I'm going to be sick."

Hermione nodded. "Well, it wouldn't be the same without you. So maybe we can pick this up again next week?" Hermione looked at everyone. "Despite the awful, awful jokes, I'd love to do this again."

Ginny and Blaise quickly followed the couple, but Ginny stuck her head into the kitchen to tell Luna she would drop her off.

Then there were three. The tension was palpable. Hermione glanced between the two men, biting her lip as she mulled over what to say. She sighed. "This is ridiculous. If you two are going to constantly be at the other's throat, I don't want to be here for it." Hermione's chair scratched against the tiles and she quickly left the room.

* * *

It wasn't long before Draco found her. First he checked her room before returning to his own, only to find her sitting in the middle of his bed. "Granger?"

"Did the two of you attempt to work out your issues?" she asked, fidgeting with a stray string of the blanket.

Draco kicked the door shut before standing in place. "He didn't want to talk about it. You probably shouldn't have expected us too. I tried," he offered. He had tried, and it was only due to the advice of his mother. Granger or not, Theo had been in his life for over two decades.

She finally looked up at him and her mouth fell open. Hermione scrambled forward, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "What happened to your lip?" she whispered. Hermione reached up tentatively, lightly touching where it was split.

"Theo was upset my father accused him of only wanting to get into your knickers so he could fuck you silly. Those aren't my words. I said some shitty things and accused him of that being true. It's apparently not."

Her eyes widened. "But he punched you?"

Draco winced as her finger swiped over the cut again. "Well, yeah. We settled the fight, of course, but—"

She coughed. "You mean to say you hit him as well?"

"Will you be less or more disappointed if I tell you that he looks worse?" Draco's hand rose, cupping her cheek before his fingers slid through tangled curls. "It's fine. We've fought before, not that it makes it any better. This will take time."

"I don't like the two of you fighting because of me. If I gave him the wrong idea, which is clearly what I've done, I should talk to him. It's only fair that I tell him that I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same way."

Draco thought of kissing her. It was all he'd been thinking of since they had stood outside this same bedroom earlier. "As much as I'd like you to tell him exactly that, and harshly, you should let him down easy."

She blinked. "I wouldn't be rude, Draco. It's only a crush, a minor infatuation and quite possibly just a result of a rivalry between the two of you. I don't think he will be as upset as you seem to think."

She really didn't know. "Hermione, there is little doubt in my mind that he's in love with you. Foolishly, exhaustingly in love with you and I'm…"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him. "And you're?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm something." Draco had admitted it to his mother, but he wasn't quite so ready to lay himself bare to a woman who still had a list of reasons to shoot him down. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

She nodded, and whether it was because she knew he wasn't prepared for  _this_  discussion, the one where they had to talk about how they felt, about what happened next, or because she didn't want to push, he wasn't sure.

"I thought about what you said in the park, about this list," she murmured.

"Yeah?" he breathed.

"I think I'd like to do something together again."


	20. Oh Fuck, This is Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated within a week, right on the dot! I like to think that I will do this again next week, but I won't make any promises, but believe me, I want this to finish this as much as you want to see it finished. Thank you to Courting Insanity for editing and reminding me for internal monologue.
> 
> Thank you for 6oo reviews (on FFN, it's about to happen and I won't post again before it does). I'm humbled and in awe that I have accomplished this and can't wait to see where I end.
> 
> I know I've forgotten to add chapter titles to the chapters themselves, but this one...makes me giggle.

 

* * *

_Chapter Twenty: Oh Fuck, This is Love_

The library was abnormally quiet.

She supposed she ought to admit that it wasn't the silence that bothered her. Hermione chewed her bottom lip as she stared across the table, willing the other man to at least  _look_ at her. No such luck. So far, Theo refused to make eye contact, to say anything that wasn't limited to helping him with course work.

"Theo," she whispered, nudging his hand with her pen. "We should talk." Hermione looked both ways for Madam Pince before dragging her chair around to the other side of the table. "You're never this cold with me."

He flinched as if she had slapped him when she reached to place a reassuring hand on his arm. "Don't," he hissed, ripping his arm away. "Just stop, Hermione."

"No." She reached over to slam his book shut. "I want to talk about what the fuck is wrong with you and why you're so mad at me that you won't even look at me."

Theo pinched the bridge of his nose as he expelled a heavy breath. "We don't need to have this discussion. I'd much rather it never happened."

She laughed without mirth as she leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "It would be difficult to continue a friendship when you're obviously so angry with me. I thought we were close enough that you would at least be honest with me, even if it's uncomfortable."

He clenched his jaw. "I'm not interested in talking about my fucking feelings, Hermione. An old fashioned heart to heart is not going to soothe the blow."

Hermione nodded, though she didn't agree at all. "Fine." She simpered. She gathered her things quietly, not pausing when he stopped to finally look at her. He'd made his preference clear already.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. It's clear that I'm not going to accomplish anything here. You're angry with me, and I'm not going to be able to study or stand being around you. The walk back to the Manor will do me good." Hermione shouldered her bag before hurrying out of the library. She pulled her mobile from her pocket, just to check her notifications before she stepped out into the chilly air.

Nearly immediately, footsteps were behind her. "Hermione, wait."

She turned slowly. "What?" she said with more anger than she meant to but, well, she was tired of the silly feud between grown men. A feud that she had absolutely no desire to be in the middle of. "Theo, I'm not going to force you or try to force you into talking to me about any of this. I don't—"

Her eyes shot open and he backed her into the wall, his hands cradling her face as he feverishly pressed his lips to hers. Hermione froze. It was all wrong, all fucking wrong. He smelled like cinnamon where there should have been mint. She shoved him away just as the shock wore off and glared at him.

"Are you ever going to learn your lesson not to randomly snog me?" she yelled. God, anyone near the corridor was going to hear her, but nevermind that. It was time to nip this in the bud once and for all.

Red rose to his cheeks, and he was smart to take a step away from her. "I had wondered if there would be something for you."

Hermione took several deep breaths to reign in her temper. It would only be childish to do something as rash as reaching out and slugging him. "I didn't feel anything, Theo."

"Right." He shifted his weight. "Because all you want is him."

Her gaze hardened. "Don't put this on Draco. Whether I care for him or not, I don't think we would have ever happened."

Theo only scoffed. "I don't think so."

"You can't blame him for this," she said. "You're assuming an awful lot by believing I would have dated you, Theo. I know my own emotions far better than you do."

His eyes were dark as he stared down at her. "How do you know he's truly interested in you? It wouldn't be the first time he's led someone on."

Hermione shrugged. "I think for someone who has been his friend for nearly his entire life, you've probably been jealous of him for the lot of it. I don't know why that is since I also know that you're a wonderful man, and you're going to make someone happy… but that someone isn't me."

"It could be," he murmured under his breath. "I  _could_ make you happy, you know."

Hermione didn't have a reply for that. The conversation was taking a turn she hadn't expected, and she was forced to consider Draco's echoing words. Maybe this wasn't only a passing fancy. "I'm sorry."

His shoulders slumped. "Why him? It's always fucking him."

She wanted to reach out and reassure him, but at the point they had reached, it would have made everything worse. "He makes me feel like no one else ever has. I know that… I know it probably doesn't make a lick of sense to you."

"You've said yourself that he's a prick. He made you cry on your birthday. You're right, it doesn't make any sense because I don't understand what you see in him."

It lit something in her chest from the inside out. Hermione stood with her feet apart, her shoulders squared as she stared up at him. "That's because no matter how close we are, you aren't the person I'm going to discuss my love life with. You haven't heard about the things he's done for me. You have no way of knowing how many times I look at my tattoo a day—" she lifted her arm "—and I smile because it makes me think of him.

"Just like you wouldn't know everything else that made me — that made me—" Hermione cut herself off.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" he asked, his voice low and somber.

She couldn't meet his eye, not with the weight of the realization that had surely just slammed into her with the force of a train. It was too soon to even  _think_  of love, wasn't it? It had only been a handful of months since she stepped off a plane, and he had been there since the beginning. Since she smarted off to him in the middle of an airport when she'd left the entire world behind. It was a heady feeling as she stood there, the seconds ticking by like hours, and she knew it was true by the oxygen that had seemingly left her lungs.

Hermione nodded, her movements jerky and her fingers trembling. "I do." She hated to say it, especially to someone that wasn't Draco, but it solidified the truth.

Oh fuck, she'd gone off and fallen in love as her mother told her to do. All of that rubbish about how her father was her mother's home, and it hit her square in the face.

"He's going to break your heart," Theo told her.

"That's a terrible thing to say to a friend," Hermione spoke through gritted teeth. "Or about a friend for that matter." She turned without waiting for a response.

Hermione hurried through the corridor, scrolling through her phone, and finding his contact. She wasn't going to do something as silly as run into his arms and profess her love for him to the entire world, not when he was only  _something_  as he'd told her in his bedroom.

But she needed something. Something concrete to build up from and reassure her. In the back of her mind, Hermione understood that relationships could fall apart. As terrifying at it might be, she wasn't worried about an end result far down the line. It was the prospect of it falling apart before it could even begin that had her heart in her throat.

"Hello?" he answered smoothly and his voice did nothing to calm her frayed nerves. "Granger?"

She asked breathlessly, "Where are you?"

"I'm leaving Professor Snape's right now. Why are you out of breath?" he asked.

Professor Snape's. Brilliant, that was just around the corner from her. "I need to talk to you." As she rushed around the corner, she could see how his eyebrows were raised while he stared at the flooring.

"Well, tell me where you are."

Hermione hung up the phone, not even bothering to capture his attention before she grabbed him by the sleeve and hauled him into the abandoned classroom that they had been in once before. "I'm right here obviously." She bit her lip, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. He didn't know anything had changed, and she had no intention of acting like anything was different.

He rolled his eyes. "You've got a smart mouth. You should be careful or it might get you into trouble."

Staring at him, Hermione could feel the blood rushing between her ears, and internally, she was screaming at herself. "I just spoke to Theo."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Oh?"

She nodded, already babbling. "We always meet in the library to study. Of course you already knew that, but he hasn't really spoken to me since we all played Cards Against Humanity. I know how you said you believed he was in love with me, and—"

Draco tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Granger, you need to breathe if you want to tell me this story without passing out."

She swallowed. "He's not happy with me."

"Are you alright?"

Hermione paused, struck silent. "What?"

"I asked if you were alright. I know Theo is a good friend of yours and any argument with him would upset you," he murmured. Draco leaned against the desk in the room, wiping the dust away as he did so.

"I suppose I am upset, but it hasn't hit me yet. I was more focused on you than Theo," Hermione admitted quietly, fidgeting with her already bitten nails. "I left the library because I was upset. He didn't want to talk to me, and it's not as if I could have forced him to do so. He followed me, and then—" she cut herself off, her cheeks heating up at the memory. "Do you think you could promise me not to get angry?"

He blinked. "Is it going to make me angry?"

She drew her lip between her teeth. "Probably."

He tilted his head before nodding with a sigh. "With that guilty look on your face, he probably kissed you. Tell me, am I correct?"

"I didn't kiss him back," she blurted out. "It was all wrong. It wasn't you." Her mind stopped as it caught up with her mouth, her cheeks flushing. Noticing the smirk on his face, Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes shot open. "He said he wanted to see if there was anything there for me."

Draco nodded but it was more of a jerking motion than anything else. "I see. What else did he have to say?"

Her mouth was dry, and she kept glancing around the room at anything that wasn't  _him_. "He was upset, angry is probably a better word, that it was always you."

He shook his head. "That's bullshite. I admit that Astoria was a horrid thing to do, and I'm apologetic for it, but it has not  _always_ been me."

Hermione did get the sense that Theo had been jealous for some time, and while she hadn't asked him directly, she was rarely wrong. "Maybe women he's pursued before were distracted by you?" she asked, her voice quiet. "He tried to tell me he could make me happy."

Draco sucked in a breath, and from the corner of her eye, she could see where he clenched his fists. "He's right."

 _What?_  Hermione's head snapped up, her curls falling in her face as her lips parted.

"Theo's a good man, as much as it enrages me to admit it," he said with an offhanded shrug. He wouldn't meet her eye, and suddenly, she'd had enough. "He would make you happy. He wouldn't make you cry. I'm a bastard." Draco stared at her as if she'd grown two heads when she laughed. "What's so fucking funny?"

Hermione slid closer to him, sliding her fingers through his and squeezing his hands. "You're right. You are a bastard sometimes, but what you're doing right now proves that you are not always a bastard. Theo told me how you would break my heart. I hate to think ill of him, but it sounded like he wanted to tear me down so he could put me back together."

His nostrils flared.

"You—" she swung their joined hands with a bright smile plastered to her face "—have just told me to pick Theo on the chance that he could make me happy. He doesn't. It's worth saying that I don't need you to make me happy. You don't hold the power of my happiness over my head."

He was staring at her as if he would like nothing more than to push her to the nearest flat surface and drag every bit of pleasure from her body. "I could break your heart," Draco murmured, and though it was brief, she recognized his fear.

"Do you want to?"

"What?" His eyes narrowed. "I hate knowing I've hurt you, that I could do it again. It's strange."

"I think it's called caring for someone." Hermione laughed, brushing her thumb across his knuckles. "It must be a brand new phenomenon. It shouldn't have taken me so long to get to the point. While talking to Theo, I realized just how much I care for you. And I could be happy without you, but I'd rather be happy with you. I'm not asking for titles right now, but if you're going to be frightened of commitment you can bugger off."

"God, you talk so fucking much. All of the goddamned time," he rasped. Draco dropped her hand, his fingers raising to brush her cheek. "What about the end of the term?"

It was like cold water had been dumped over her head. Hermione shook her head, her throat tight. "I don't want to talk about that right now, okay? We still have months." It went unsaid how fast the time was going by already. She knew. Hermione craned her head back to look up at him, her tongue darting out and sliding against her lips. "If you don't kiss me, I might scream."

The unease left his face and he smirked. "All you had to do was ask."

She was thrilled when he spun her, pressing her to the wall. All while taking her wrists into his hands and pinning them over her head. Draco's knee was wedged between her thighs as his mouth came down on hers roughly. He nipped her bottom lip before he thoroughly kissed her.

Hermione whimpered, shifting against him as she pretended to try to free her wrists. His grip was loose and she could easily slip away, but it was intoxicating to feel his fingers tighten when she made a show of escaping.

And maybe it was childish to play fight, but...

"Draco," she moaned quietly, "maybe we should lock the door? I'd rather—" her head fell back as he shifted so that he was clasping both of her wrists in just one of his hands, the other sliding along her thighs "—someone not walk in and see me—"

Draco's hand slid between her legs, his thumb swiping smoothly across her clit through her jeans. "—fall apart for me?" he finished. He let her go, smirking as she slumped against the wall.

She was already reaching for him as soon as he locked the door, grinning and tangling her fingers in his hair. Draco picked her up easily and she wrapped her legs around his waist. "I would have never done this before I met you."

"Shagged in a classroom?"

Her cheeks colored and she laughed. "I have no intention of shagging you right now," she whispered.

She fell quiet as he pressed his lips to hers, but her breathing grew ragged when he kissed down her throat. "I know that. I just like to see that blush," Draco said, and she'd truly already forgotten what she'd said.

In a tangle of limbs, they ended up on the desk, Draco sitting atop it as it creaked beneath their combined weight.. Had she not been so distracted, she might have worried about breaking it, but she was far too concerned with straddling his waist and rolling her hips against his.

At least classes had ended for the day. Her name fell from his lips, and his hands gripped her waist. "Oh, you are the  _worst,_ " he growled when she rolled her hips once more. The outline of his cock was flush against the apex of her thighs.

She grinned, leaning into him and kissing him. "We should probably leave soon, or someone might get suspicious."

"Yes," he drawled, "because someone can't keep their sweet little sounds to themselves."

Hermione flushed. "It's  _your_ fault."

"I don't mind the blame." In an unspoken question, his hand rose to the hem of her jumper, tugging on it.

She bit her lip. "I'd really rather not get caught naked at my university," Hermione replied dryly. "So I suggest we don't get caught, or I'll make you regret it."

The grin that curved his lips made the risk worth it, she thought. Her lips were bruised from a thorough snogging while he turned them. Draco shrugged out of his jacket, laying it across the dusty desk before pressing her down. There was another creak that made her eyes shoot open, but she giggled.

He pulled her shirt up over her breasts, leaving it still on her so she could rip it down if she needed to. He pulled the cups of her bra down and lowered his head. It was impossible to forget how he felt against her from the first and subsequent times, but feeling his tongue exploring her heated flesh again… it was euphoria.

Hermione's back arched as she whimpered louder than she should have.

"Quiet," he reminded her, covering her mouth with his hand.

She nipped the softness of his palm. His tongue slid between her breasts as his teeth grazed her nipple. Just as she thought she wouldn't be able to stay quiet, not with his mouth on her as it was, his hand slid down her belly.

Draco unbuttoned her jeans easily, pulling the zipper down before his hand was sliding against her knickers. Her hips bucked against him, and she pleaded silently for him to touch her, to push her knickers to the side.

Two fingers rubbed her clit through her cotton knickers, and she wished - in vain - that she had worn something other than those. "Oh, God," she moaned, her head falling to the desk. Her curls were a haphazard mess around her, surely coated with dust by now. "Please, Draco. Touch me."

"I am touching you, Princess." His teeth brushed her nipple, drawing a long moan that was muffled by his hand. "I could make you come like this, you know, without real contact."

While she didn't doubt that, she  _really_ wanted more. Of course like he said, her mouth got her into trouble. "Doubtful," she challenged.

His hand was tight against her mouth. "What was that?" He smirked, and she was absolutely sure that after this, she was going to knock it off his face.

Hermione whimpered as her orgasm built and she pulled his hand away from her mouth before tugging him forward by his shirt. Cupping his face while she kissed him desperately, she whispered against his lips, "I'm so close."

His eyes were dark, and heavy lidded as he watched her. "Yeah?" he breathed.

She nodded, pulling his hair to get closer to him, and mewling his name. "Please,  _there,_ "

And then he stopped. Draco slid off of the table, and in her half undressed state, she almost moved to cover herself until it became blisteringly clear what he planned to do.

"Draco, you can't—" Being caught with Draco's hand down her knickers, and his mouth on her breasts was surely terrible, maybe even enough for disciplinary action. She would die of embarrassment if a faculty member discovered them while he went down on her.

"We've done this before," he murmured. "Slughorn's party?"

It wasn't all that different. Draco didn't wait for an answer as he slid her jeans down her legs, and pulled her knickers to the side.

It was hard to focus on the danger of being caught when it felt the way it did. His tongue flattened against her clit while he held her down by her hips as she writhed below him.

Unfortunately, she thought bitterly, it didn't last nearly long enough. Hermione's head hit the table with a thud, and she gasped as one finger slid into her just as she told him she was coming. "Oh, fuck!" It was undeniably a scream, and despite the the satiated and smug look on his face, he knew just as well as she did that they were likely going to be caught.

Immediately, there was a banging on the still-locked door, and she yanked her jeans up as she saw the handle jiggle. "We could get in so much trouble," she wheezed, "or worse, expelled."

He snorted a laughed, and grabbed his jacket. "Filch won't be able to find his key for the door in time. Grab your backpack." Draco hurried over to the window and slid it open. He wiped his hands on his jeans. "I would have licked my fingers clean, but the dust."

Her cheeks were definitely a bright red. Hermione set her bag on the grass outside and climbed out first. The door was still shaking behind them as Filch yelled for whoever was inside to open the door. Draco slid out right after her, quietly closing the window from the outside.

"I told you we would get caught," she muttered.

"Aren't you glad we did this on the first floor?"

Hard pressed as she was to agree, Hermione couldn't find it in her to regret anything about the experience. Draco pulled her away from the window and they broke off into a sprint as Filch finally burst into the room. By the time they made it around a corner where he could no longer see them, she broke down into laughter.

He was staring at her, smiling to himself while he looked her over. "Your hair is an absolute wreck."

"Isn't it?" She sniggered.

"Like a bird's nest," he commented.

She sighed in mock sadness. "Drats, I was going for the 'just thoroughly shagged' look." Hermione couldn't stop giggling, not even when she saw Theo walking across the parking lot.

Draco didn't notice. "I could rectify that." He smirked. "Did you have any plans for today?"

Given what had just happened not even moments before, and the fact that they had taken another step, she shouldn't have been surprised. "I was planning to study," she answered. "I wanted to have a headstart for exams."

He nodded. "Naturally. Study break then?"

She looked at the sky as she debated. "Of course."

If Draco was surprised by her answer, the easily given one that entailed it was obvious she was going to spend time with him instead, he didn't let it show. He grabbed her hand, sliding his fingers through hers as he led her to the car.

* * *

Flourish and Blotts was chaos.

Streamers were hung across the store, subtly taped to the ends of bookshelves. Near the entrance, there was a table on which sat several large stacks of books, and a man sitting to the right of it that she recognized.

Waving to Neville, who was idling behind the counter as he sipped his drink from the Leaky, Hermione was dragged into a conversation with Professor Lockhart. "Horace told me you're rather brilliant, Miss...?"

Either Slughorn had never talked about her at all, or Lockhart had a terrible memory.

Hermione settled for shaking his hand. It was a fruitless wish to hope it would help her get away from him and it didn't work. "Granger," she supplied, beginning to step around him, but he blocked her way to the counter.

Neville snorted and hot coffee spewed from his nose. Served him right, too, for laughing at her misfortune when he could have merely helped her.

Lockhart snapped his fingers too close to her face. "Granger, right! American, no?"

Hermione stared at him. "Correct, sir," she replied. She didn't mean to look at the table, as that would give him an invitation to talk to her even more, but curiosity got the best of her. Sitting on the table were several copies of a new book: hardback, a glossy jacket, and an enlarged picture of him on the back that he must have thought was flattering.

"Oh, dear!" He chuckled, a forced sound escaping his lungs. "I told my publisher it would be daft to use a full body shot. After all, the focus should be on the writing itself, rather than my handsome face. Dolores simply  _insisted_  that I've done so much hard work that on the off chance my prose became long and boring—which would be simply impossible, you see—that I might as well give my audience something lovely to stare at before they dug back into the manuscript."

He was exhausting. He oozed arrogance and struck her as the type of person who ended each and every sentence with an exclamation mark. Which he did in his syllabus and now in a published novel. Hermione, unamused, scanned the summary. It was less than impressive.

"What exactly is this about?" The words had left her mouth before she remembered that she was trying to get  _away_  from him.

Well, he was delighted to tell her all about it, and somehow, she was pretty sure she'd been the first one caught in his 'charms' all day.

While Neville laughed behind them, snapping more than a few pictures and possibly a video of her torment, Hermione pretended to be interested in the synopsis. Truthfully, she'd stopped paying attention once the words  _chosen one_  left his mouth in the first twenty seconds. Eyes wide with what he believed to be fascination, but what she would refer to as contempt, he raved on.

Professor Lockhart was breathless by the time he finished. "Riveting, no?"

She wanted to reply with a firm but polite negative, but her mother raised her better than that. "I'm sure it is, Professor. Fantasy isn't my cup of tea, unfortunately." A lie, since there was a tattoo on her forearm that was heavily inspired by  _Lord of the Rings_. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Professor Lockhart was positively aghast by her statement, pretending as if the floorboards beneath him had begun to sway and he was going to faint. If only she could be so lucky. "That's dreadful, Miss Granger. Here!" he was yelling, and she was mortified.

Was he signing a—?  _No._

The professor thrust the book into her hands, his signature elegantly written across his bum on the back of the jacket. She resisted the urge, barely, to call him a tosser. "Professor, I—"

In a great display of imagined chivalry and generosity, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Hermione wiggled out of his grip casually, but not in a move that would be mistaken, knocked his hand away from her. "I would appreciate it if you would keep your hands to yourself, Professor Lockhart," Hermione said coldly.

Not at all interested in the book he still insisted upon thrusting into her hands, Hermione pushed past him and made her way to the sales counter.

Neville set a cup in front of her, her name scribbled between the Leaky Cauldron logo and the black plastic lid. "Angelina remembered your order when I told her you would be coming by."

She nodded, setting her backpack on the stool to her left and took a sip before handing over a copy of her notes from Professor Snape's. Still-warm coffee met her taste buds and she sighed. "How long is he going to be here?" She didn't have to explain who she was referring to.

Neville's sigh was comical and he snorted into his coffee. "No idea, but I wish he would leave. If anything he's cut down our business."

Hermione held her cup upto knock against his. "Does this—" she waved to her notes "—mean you'll be able to finish your assignment from Professor Snape today?"

He glowered at her. "A bit stuck, but he extended my deadline. Do you ever miss Professor Slughorn?"

She scoffed, her eyebrows shooting up. "Not particularly. Have you heard when he'll come back from his sabbatical?"

"I haven't, but I overheard a conversation between Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore. Apparently, whenever he does come back he won't be taking your class again."

The corners of her lips were dragged down into a frown. "I hate to speak ill, but good riddance. Professor Snape seems to hold the class to a higher standard rather than discussing a club that not everyone is invited to attend."

"What you mean to say is that Professor Snape hates each student equally." Neville grinned. "He might like you more if you hadn't joined forces with Ron to play a prank on him."

Under her breath, she grumbled, "I've gone my entire life without getting into trouble with an authority figure."

Neville smirked. "Professor Lockhart keeps looking over here, probably wondering if you've opened your book yet."

"If I didn't love literature so much, I would dump this in the garbage. Unfortunately, I hold written work to a higher respect than that." Hermione took another drink. "How has your day been then?" She was eager to change the topic.

He shrugged. "It's a slow day. Yours?"

Hermione mimicked his shrug. "Boring." Technically, it hadn't been boring at all. She'd spent her time studying in Draco's bedroom, but they had only gone through one set of notes.

The rest had been spent snogging, and with his hand up her shirt. They were moving a bit faster than she'd anticipated, but she was all in now.

"How is Hannah?" Once again changing the subject, Hermione raised her cup to her mouth like clockwork, but she'd already drained it.  _Bollocks._

"She's visiting her mother today," he said solemnly, and he said no more on the matter.

Hermione knew Hannah's mother had lost her life in a car wreck in the year before she came to England. It was a terrible thing to bond over, but they had sat in the corner of the bookstore while Neville stocked the shelves, reminiscing about two women who were no longer with them. Hermione nodded. "Give her my love, would you?"

He grinned and agreed. "They've released a new edition of Jane Austen's books if you'd like to have a look. I just put them out this morning; they'll be gone quickly."

She cast a look in the direction he'd motioned. "Are they movie covers?"

He snorted, earning a dark look from a customer coming to the counter. "No. I've already learned how much you hate those."

Hermione turned her nose up, smirking. "You're right. They're never as good as the originals," she said, uncrossing her legs as a woman stood to her right, sliding a small stack of paperbacks across the counter.

Neville politely asked the woman if she had found everything, only to receive a reply of how the younger generation shouldn't chat so loudly as she left. He grimaced as the bell dinged on her way out. "Well, she's as cheerful as ever."

"A regular then?"

His shoulders slumped as he sat in his stool. "Her name is Mrs Norris and she's a nightmare. Every time I've ever asked her if she needed help, she tells me I'm hovering.  _What? Do you expect me to shoplift?"_ Neville imitated the woman's voice. "Anyway, the new collection is down the middle aisle and at the very end, you'll find it against the wall. There's a copy of  _Jane Eyre_ too; yours is looking worse for wear."

He was right. She carried it with her everywhere as if it were a security blanket. Each time she pulled it from her backpack, the corner would get stuck on the zipper and tear a little more.

"I'll look at them." Hermione tossed her empty cup into the trash beside the counter, shouldered her bag, and carefully made her way down the aisle.

There were other bookshops she'd visited, but Flourish and Blotts was her favourite. Not only due to Neville's company,which was always a bright spot to the trip, but their organization was easier to understand. Her fingertips sliding along the spines of books, Hermione saw the display he had mentioned.

There were also movie editions, rather old since the movie had come out over a decade ago. Keira Knightley's face stared at her as she picked up the copy to the right of it. Pressed into the cardboard display, she found the new edition bound together with gold on the edges of the pages. A pretty edition, indeed.

Standing in place, the first line of the book echoed in her head.  _A truth universally acknowledged…_  While her own classic was her favourite for completely different reasons, she'd had several copies of the tale in her hands over the years. Hermione set it back on the shelf, sliding one arm out of her straps and pulled her book around.

Hermione compared her copy of  _Jane Eyre_  to the newer copies. With a grimace, she admitted hers was one bad day from falling apart. She supposed she could have the two pages from her parents removed and laminated. Yes, that was the best course of action.

Footsteps neared her, but she paid it no mind until fingers brushed against her forearm, tracing a path from her elbow to her wrist. "Hello, doll."

Her stomach dropped at the angry tone, the usual British raspiness, and the way fingers gripped her elbow as she turned to run. "Let go!" Hermione snapped, trying to pull away from him.

Dolohov's smile didn't fit his face. "I wouldn't scream if I were you," he murmured, taking a step towards her. "Your friend would come running, of course," he drawled, dipping his head to get a look at her. Dolohov gripped her shoulder, forcing her to look at the men who were with him. "Unfortunately there are more of us, and he would just get hurt. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Even if she tried to run, there was a stocky man blocking her path, black gloves covering his fingers as he cracked his knuckles. "What do you want?" Hermione didn't flinch when he tilted her chin up. Headbutting him probably wouldn't do her much good, but if that's what it took to get him off of her, she would do it.

He ran his fingers along her jaw to her ear, pulling the tucked curls out from behind it. "You would look  _so_  much better broken."

Her eyes widened as a chill rolled down her spine. "Still angry Malfoy beat the shit out of you then?" she croaked.

"Wasn't very nice, what your friend did to me," he hissed, hot breath tainted with the smell of booze fanning across her face. She nearly vomited on his shoes. "You'll understand if I need a little revenge, won't you?"

Hermione squeaked as he tore the book from her hands. "Don't fucking touch that!" she ordered, watching him flip the page open. "Don't—"

He was reading the letter from her mother, his eyes lighting up with sick delight. "She seemed like a nice lady. Did she ever teach you to keep your mouth shut?"

She glared at him, batting away tears that threatened to fall. "She taught me how to not be scared of bullies, if you really want to know."

Scared or not, he was going to beat her bloody if she didn't get away. Hermione threw two hardbacks from the shelf at the two men closest to her after she snatched the book from his unexpecting hand and ran for it. He'd probably destroy the book, but her only thought was getting into the women's loo and locking the door behind her. Hermione slid down the farthest wall, bringing her knees to her chest.

She called Pansy first, and then Theo - who probably did  _not_ want to talk to her, but she was more than a little desperate - and then Narcissa and Lucius. Hermione went down the list of contacts, no one replying to her, and her finger hovered over the last possible name. A pounding on the door made her shriek, and after a few moments, she knew Neville hadn't heard her. Certain that Dolohov was on the other side of the door, she pressed the button again.

He answered instantly, the phone not even getting to the third ring. "Hello?"

She fell silent, trying to stop her tears before she said anything. Having not even considered what she would say if he did answer, that was her other dilemma. "Draco—" she gasped when there was another knock on the door. "I'm—I'm—" Hermione's voice broke as she cried. "I'm sorry to call you. I tried to call you, and then everyone else, but they wouldn't answer and I'm fucking terrified."

There was a sharp intake of breath and the jingling of keys. "Princess, I need you to take a deep breath if you're going to talk to me. I can't understand you if you're crying."

She nodded breathlessly, not that he could see it. "I'm in Flourish and Blotts. Dolohov—" she hiccuped as she heard the sound of his car starting "—was here. He grabbed me; oh, fuck!" Hermione groaned, looking down at her hands. "He took the pages my mum and dad wrote on that were in my book. I snatched the book back, but—"

"Where are you in Flourish and Blotts?"

"The bathroom." She choked quietly. "I think he's on the other side of the door. I don't know. All I can see are shadows beneath the door."

"Stay there. I don't fucking care who knocks on that door, just stay put until I get there. Don't open the door for anyone else."

"Okay. Draco?" she asked quietly. "Will you please stay on the phone with me?"

He exhaled. "Of course. Tell me something to take your mind off of it. You like facts, don't you?"

Hermione wondered if Theo had told him that, or she just didn't remember telling him that. The first thing to pop into her brain was the very thing she'd said to Theo in September. "Did you know that female kangaroos have three vaginas?"

Malfoy roared with laughter, the sound crackling with static through the line. At the very least, she didn't feel alone.

When Draco arrived, she threw the door open to see him still with his phone pressed to his ear, halfway through a sentence, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. He patted her back, and Hermione thought his lips had brushed her hair.

* * *

He took her home, carried her bag for her, let her cry in the car without saying a word, which she appreciated. He led her to her room while pulling a pair of joggers and a jumper from her dresser and tossing them to her. "Wear these," he said and quietly shut the door behind him.

Hermione recalled how he had stayed with her when Dolohov cornered her the first time all those months ago and wished he'd stayed this time. With her clothes changed, she settled into her bed, covers pulled up to her shoulders until a knock sounded against the door.

It had been over an hour that she'd sat there, picking at her already broken nails.

A knock came at the door again. "Come in."

She assumed it was Narcissa coming to check on her since she hadn't rushed into her bedroom immediately. But Malfoy let himself into the room, crossing the space to her side of the bed in two long strides as he handed two pieces of paper out to her. "I didn't want to tell you why I left so quickly in case I wasn't able to get them back. I didn't want you to get your hopes up if they were destroyed."

He pressed the two pages into her hands. Her eyes filled with tears as she took in the letter and the note, and she nodded slowly. "This means everything to me. Thank you so much." Looking at him again, Hermione noticed his busted knuckles, and the smeared blood across them. "What did you do?"

He cracked his neck. "I gave him what he deserved, which is what I should have done last time." There was no forgetting how he'd said the man deserved worse than he got. "I'm fine, Granger."

"I just wish you wouldn't have to get into fights because of me," she muttered, taking the book from the nightstand and pressing the torn pages into the beginning.

Draco shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal. I wasn't leaving without those." He nodded toward the table. "They're important to you."

Hermione had no doubt that Draco had gone after Dolohov with a vengeance. "Thank you, again."

"He shouldn't bother you again."

She peeked up at him. "Would you mind staying with me? Like… like before? We could watch a movie?"

Draco settled into the other side of the bed after kicking his boots off. " _Lord of the Rings_  is your favorite, yeah?"

"You remember that?" she asked, her mouth dry.

He offered her a lopsided grin. "I remember everything about you." Draco slid off of the bed quickly, searching through the shelf for the collection.

Hermione watched him, slumped against the headboard. "Let me clean your hands," she said. She made her way to the bathroom, grabbing the kit from under the sink. They sat on the bed, listening to the opening of the movie, while she dabbed the fresh cuts on his knuckles. "Does he look worse?"

He didn't laugh as he tipped her chin up. "I left him at St Mungo's."

She nodded. "Thank you for getting my book back." Hermione fell quiet for a moment as she put ointment on the cuts. "You always tell me that my mouth is going to get me into trouble."

"This isn't your fault." He growled.

"I know." She sighed. "I just also know that this probably isn't what you had in mind when we agreed to give all of this a try. It's barely been a week, and you're—"

"—I'm happy, Hermione," he murmured, reaching up to wrap a curl around his finger. "As lovely as it is to spend my day snogging you, it's not as if I'm only here for the good parts. I'm glad you called me."

A smile curled across her face as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would be SO incredibly happy if you left me your thoughts. :)


	21. Internal Clocks and External Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning from my part of the world. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! I've got a bit of momentum now, so I'm hoping to continue updating once a week until the very end. Please read the note at the bottom if you don't mind. (No bad news, you'll probably like this chapter quite a bit.)
> 
> Thank you to Emma Watson's Instagram post captioned, "Friends capture you best." It gave me some inspiration for this chapter.
> 
> Beta love to Courting Insanity for editing this chapter this morning when I gave it to her last night. She is truly the best.

 

* * *

"Just give it a try," he coaxed, his lips pursed as he held back a laugh. "Granger, it's just tea. You're acting as if it's poison."

She stared at him from her side of the table, shaking her head as she clasped her hands. Her face was a mask of exasperation, and all she had really wanted was to study. Not that she expected to get much done with Draco accompanying her. "See, you say that, but the fact remains that it tastes like absolute garbage."

He rolled his eyes, scooting the cup closer to her. "I'm convinced you said that you hated Earl Grey all those months ago just because it was me that gave it to you."

Hermione shot him an obscene gesture and averted her eyes as a grandmother across the Leaky caught the motion. She settled for kicking him beneath the table. "Contrary to your skewed outlook of me, that's just not true. Even though you were a massive prat, I still gave it a chance. It's just terrible."

His nostrils flared and the top of his boot lightly knocked against her shin. "It's an acquired taste, then."

She grinned. "Oh? I'm not sure why anyone —"

"You know," Pansy's playful voice cut Hermione off. She stood at the edge of their table, her hands on her hips. "If you're insistent on snogging, it would be much easier if you sat on the same side of the table."

Draco chuckled when Hermione's cheeks grew red, and she scrambled back into her side of the booth, just realizing how they had been leaning in to one another.

"Morning," Draco said.

Pansy slid into the seat beside Hermione, tossing her bag to the empty space beside Draco. "Good morning. Harry and I were just leaving to visit my grandparents, but I saw the two of you in the window."

"Do you carry bricks in your handbag?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow as he glared at the offending object.

"Don't be ridiculous." Pansy snorted. "Anyway, I don't want to make Harry wait long. I just wanted to drop in and say hi. Angelina is making our drinks to go right now."

Hermione shifted in her seat, sitting with her back to the window and drawing her knees to her chest. "How are you feeling? Any morning sickness?"

A dark look flitted across her face. "I'm not sure we'll be having any children after this one." she muttered. "Harry wants an entire rugby team. I'm not sure he comprehends how much it sucks to share your body with a fetus."

"Well, you're not instilling the hope in me that I want children either." Hermione laughed. "Have you told your grandparents about the baby yet?"

Pansy shook her head, fingers tapping against the edge of the table anxiously. "I think my mother has hinted at it, but they're holding out the hope that I haven't done something as stupid as getting knocked up before graduating."

Hermione winced. It was no secret just how traditional the Parkinson's were, and just how untraditional Pansy was. "How badly do you think it will go?"

"Pansy!" Angelina rang the bell at the counter and hollered her name.

"On a scale of one to ten, I'd say a six. Grandmum will be furious, but my grandfather adores me far too much to stay angry. I expect one of them to try wrangling Harry into proposing on the spot." Pansy sniggered as she stood, taking her handbag from Draco. "I've already informed him if he even tries to appease my family by getting on one knee, I'll turn him down faster than he can say rugby."

Hermione smiled. "When do we find out if it's a boy or a girl?"

"A few weeks, I'd say. Harry and I want to be surprised together. Would you mind coming to the ultrasound? You'd have to keep the secret to yourself, of course, and that's if you don't mind planning a party."

She blinked. "Of course. I'd love to."

Pansy tilted her head to the side. "I was so hoping you would agree, considering it really is the Godmother's job, I would think."

Her lips parted as the oxygen left her lungs. Hermione's eyes widened, an ecstatic grin curling across her face. "Really?" Her high pitched voice floated through the cafe, and there was no one who hadn't heard her.

Pansy grunted as Hermione enveloped her in a tight hug. "Of course, you bint. Who else would I choose?"

And Hermione thought of all of the people she  _could_  have chosen. She'd known Ginny and Luna for probably the majority of her life, and here she was, having only been in the country for five months, being asked to be a  _godmother_. It was dizzying to think she could have left such an impact, but Hermione didn't say anything of that at all. Too wrapped up in the happy moment to voice her insecurities, she spun Pansy around in a fierce hug that was probably  _too_ tight.

* * *

They hadn't focused on the list yet, though it was always with her, whether in her bag or her memory. But he had asked her what she wanted to do, and she'd murmured that she'd like to be able to drive on England roads. And really, it couldn't be that difficult. It was just switching sides of the roads, wasn't it?

Then again, Hermione thought that if she reverted to what she'd been initially taught, the results would be disastrous.

"Are you sure you want to teach me?" she muttered glumly as she screwed up again. They were on a country road in the middle of nowhere, which he assured her was  _somewhere_ , and it was on another Malfoy estate.

She really shouldn't have been surprised that there was another property, but she'd glanced at him in wonder.

"This is a disaster," Hermione mumbled when the engine died again. "I can't do this!"

He chuckled from the passenger seat. "You can. You're thinking too much, Granger. You need to relax a bit. It's just like driving any other automobile; all you're doing is sitting on the other side," Draco murmured, brushing a lock of hair from her shoulder.

She huffed. "I know I'm thinking too much. I'm always thinking."

Draco snorted. "Don't I know it. Tell me what's on your mind." He reached across the car, and pulled the keys from the ignition. "Come here, Granger. Come into my office."

Laughing uncontrollably as he pulled her into his lap, Hermione found herself straddling his waist, and there was little doubt how quickly everything would escalate.

They couldn't keep their hands to themselves.

"Your office?" she wheezed, grinning down at him.

While he shot her a sharp glare, the desired effect was lost as his thumbs rubbed circles on her hips. "What's on your mind?"

Oh, everything, she supposed. The end of term, wondering what would happen when she realised she needed to pack her things, but she didn't want to talk about it at all. It was a dense weight on her chest, slipping into her mind while they were doing the most mundane tasks, and Hermione couldn't bring herself to ruin the collective moments by discussing something as fragile as the future.

Was she a coward for it? Probably.

Hermione cleared her throat, more than aware that several seconds had passed. He was staring at her curiously, his hands having moved to her back as he rubbed slow but sure circles.

"Exams," she murmured.

He had the gall to laugh at her as he leaned his forehead to hers. "Did you know," Draco whispered, one hand cupping her face as he looked directly at her, "that you are an atrocious liar?"

She didn't mean to headbutt him when she laughed, but she most certainly had. "I'm so sorry!" Hermione gasped, her sides aching from laughter as he leaned back. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"Well, it didn't hurt as much as when you punched me in the face," Draco commented dryly.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget about all of the things that had happened since September, all too easy when it felt like her life had been put on fast forward. Still, the memory of nearly breaking Draco's nose was quite crisp and it brought a satisfied look to her face. "I'll be sure to try harder next time then."

"Cheeky," he mused, and then he was tickling her sides.

Hermione shrieked, wriggling to get away from him. "Draco!" She laughed, gasping for air. "Oh, please stop, I can't breathe,"

Draco didn't relent one bit.

"I'll punch you!"

"I'll duck," he replied.

Hermione fought a bit dirty, elbowing him sharply and taking the chance to scramble between the seats. She landed haphazardly in the back seat, her foot still caught on the center console. Whatever he was planning to do to her, it couldn't be anything good with the look he shot back at her. "What are you—?"

He tugged her shoe off, tilting his head to the side. "I wonder if your feet are ticklish?"

Her eyes shot open in fear. "Don't you dare!" she yelled, freeing her feet and crawling over the second row seats into the trunk. "Don't think I won't jump out of this window, Malfoy." Hermione warned.

"Oh? Am I  _Malfoy_  again now?" he asked.

She didn't even have time to form a response because he lunged between the seats, rushing after her. Hermione looked like a deer stuck in headlights as she suddenly had nowhere to go, and she didn't know how, or if she even could, open the trunk from the inside. Laughing breathlessly as his fingers found her sides again, Hermione was pinned to the floor of the car.

Hermione grabbed a fistful of his shirt, hauling him forward and pressing her lips to his. His hands were still on her hips, only holding her in place now as his tongue sought entrance to her mouth. She whimpered quietly as he nipped her lower lip, angling his head as his lips slanted against hers.

"Draco—"

"Am I  _Draco_  again now?" He chuckled.

Hermione groaned as he hitched her leg around his waist. "You're so fucking insufferable."

"Did you curse this much before you met me or have I just rubbed off on you?" he asked, his lips skimming her jaw.

She ignored the question, her breath catching as he nipped her throat. A low moan spilled from her lips and she arched into him. "You're always Draco," she muttered. "I just like to call you Malfoy because I know how much it irritates you when I do."

He'd never said as much, but she was observant. He was far more playful when she used his first name. "And you say I'm the insufferable one."

"Well, you are. Have you met yourself?" She snorted.

"Tell me what's on your mind," Draco whispered, and she froze. "What?" He laughed lightly. "Granger, did you think I would forget something was bothering you just because you let me snog you? I'm disappointed you think so little of me."

He was teasing her, and while she knew that, something sharp lodged in her chest when she wondered if he actually thought that.

"I don't think that."

Her chest deflated when he gave an easy laugh. "You're easy to rile up. Of course I know you don't think that, but I'm certain—" his hand slid up her side, his long fingers brushing the sedge of her breast "—that you were hoping it would conveniently slip my mind."

She arched an eyebrow. "Are my feminine wiles not enough to distract you?"

He barked a laugh. "Princess, I hope you never uncover just how much power you hold over me," Draco rasped. "But no, it won't work this time. It's been bothering you for several days, and I'd like to help if I could, but—" he held a hand up at her parting lips "—I understand if you would rather not talk about it."

"I am frustrated with exams, and I am a bit worried about them, but as for everything else…" she trailed off, looking away and letting her head fall to the floorboard. "I don't want to talk about it. I'd really rather enjoy the day with you."

He nodded. "Easily done." Draco leaned down, his lips skimming her collarbone. "Somehow, I assumed this was how this driving lesson would go."

Hermione smiled lazily, combing her fingers through his hair. "Are you complaining?"

"Certainly not," he rasped, "but unless you want to shag in my car rather than a bed—"

She pressed her lips to his again. "This is the part where I should rationally say that we've been moving too quickly and we should probably slow down."

He stilled and looked up at her, his gaze softer than she'd even seen it. "You know I don't mean to—"

Hermione leaned forward, kissing down his throat and biting just enough to leave a mark. She smirked as he groaned. "I don't feel much like being rational."

He growled and her shirt was over her head in seconds. "Thank fuck."

She laughed, her head falling back before she grabbed the hem of his shirt and tore it over his head. "Want to touch you this time." She gasped.

He unsnapped her bra with one hand, his large palm flattening again the small of her back and pressing her to him as he sat against the seats. "You can."

His hands were everywhere, sliding down her back, cupping her bum through the soft jeans she was wearing. His thumbs swiped across her nipples and she moaned loudly.

Hermione responded just the same. Her nails but into his shoulders as she rolled her hips against his, desperate to be even closer to him, to be skin to skin.

Her lips were surely bruised as he pulled away from her, and her eyes were slowly falling shut. "Did it feel like this last time?" she whispered.

He chuckled, his nose bumping hers lightly. "It must be all of the  _emotions_."

She'd never laughed as she did with him. It was a sobering thought that made her tilt her head up and an admission that she had no desire to say was right in the tip of her tongue.

Hermione's nose crinkled. "Maybe you shouldn't sound so surly when you talk about your feelings, Malfoy."

His eyes darkened and his hand rose to her breast, punching her nipple and drawing a throaty moan from her. "Am I  _Draco_  again yet?"

She hissed. "You are such a git."

He grinned. "Am I?"

Words were lost to her after that as his head dipped down. Hermione tried to insist that he had given her all of the pleasure the last time, that he should let her pleasure him, but he wouldn't hear it.

Draco laid her across the floor of his car, grabbing his shirt and balling it up before sliding it under her head. "Not right now, Hermione." He groaned as she reached down, her fingers closing around his cock. His, "fuck," was guttural and it echoed in her ears as she strained to cause that sound again.

"Thought you said 'not right now, Hermione,'" she mocked, a wry grin curving her lips.

His head fell forward, soft blond hair tickling the top of her nose. His shoulders were shaking with laughter. "I have never met anyone who talks as much as you do during sex."

"Meet many silent ones, do you?" Hermione laughed

"Hermione." He sighed, shoulders still shaking. "Do you ever stop talking?"

She glanced up at him, drawing her lip in between her teeth. "Is that a rhetorical question? Because I'm pretty sure you already know the answer to that."

"Oh, yes." He hung his head, pressing kisses down her stomach. "I'm well aware of your incessant need to  _talk._ "

Hermione stared at him, her heart hammering in her chest while he tugged her jeans down her legs, quickly followed by her knickers. Calloused fingers trailed over her skin, and she said so quietly, "Draco, come here."

In a tangle of limbs in the back of his car, giggling when he  _accidentally_  tickled her, Hermione was quite certain that she had never been as happy as she was then.

Hermione's head fell back as his arms locked around her waist, perfectly timed with him thrusting into her. "Oh!" She whimpered, wrapping her legs around his hips tightly.

She said a lot of things, things that would make heat rise to her face later when she thought about them. Like how his cock felt so good inside of her, that she liked the way his fingers tangled in her mess of hair, or how she liked how he pinned her hands above her head a bit  _too_ much.

She was writhing as he returned the favor in kind, murmuring in a low rasping tones that kept her gripping his forearms.

He might have murmured that he should have lasted longer, that it was selfish to have spent himself so quickly in the end, but Hermione swatted his chest and curled into him when he let her. Draco kissed the top of her hair. "You could make a man stupid, Granger." He laughed, smoothing her hair.

She snorted. "What is that?" Hermione caught sight of a hat wedged in between the seats, and it was curious to her considering she'd not once seen him wear a hat. "Is this yours?" She held up the black cap, twisting it to see the front.

"It is."

"I don't think I've ever seen you wear a hat," Hermione said, twisting in his arms to look up at him. "Let me just—" She stretched up, securely placing it on his head and leaning back to take a look. "It doesn't suit you at all."

She would never tire of his laugh, the rumbling baritone. "Let's see…" Draco trailed off, snatching it off her head and placing it on her head. "Much better."

Hermione blinked. "Really?"

"Of course, it hides that bird nest you call hair." He smirked. Draco yelped when she smacked his bare chest, leaving a welt the size of her hand. "Bloody violent."

In the end, they got dressed, despite enjoying the naked cuddling - even if he would never admit it to anyone but her, Draco did indeed like cuddling - and they were right back where they started, with Hermione wanting to drive his car off of a bridge while she was still overthinking everything.

He snapped a picture of her while laughing, and Hermione took his phone, sending the photograph to herself.

She almost didn't recognize herself. On the one hand, it was so obviously her from the shape of her nose, and the smile that curved her lips, but she was a picture of happiness she didn't think she'd ever seen before. Hermione posted it to her social media accounts, leaning into Draco while she typed a caption.

_Friends capture you best._

He snorted, tilting her chin up. "Hermione—"  _that_  got her attention "—I'm offended you'd call me a friend," he murmured, muffling his laugh against her shoulder.

Her eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't like to presume, just in…"

Draco kissed her slowly, and her phone slipped from her grip as she turned into him. "I realize that I've been a complete and utter prat, but you do realize that you're my girlfriend, don't you?"

She had to admit she liked the sound of it. "I just didn't want to assume." Hermione sighed. "Of course that makes absolute sense, given… well, everything. It would have just gutted me to be wrong."

He nodded. "Do I have to ask you to be my girlfriend to make it official? I could make a very public display, you know. Malfoys don't do anything by halves."

Hermione didn't want to even think of what he might do, so she only shook her head. "That's okay." She grinned. Her phone vibrated in the floorboard, and she bent down to grab it. "Pansy texted me - is it that obvious we had sex?" Her voice shot up several notches. She showed Draco the message on her screen.

_You two are disgustingly adorable. It's bad enough that I vomit all of the time. I don't need you to be the cause of it, too! Kidding, obviously. Though I'm not sure you should let the world see you when you've clearly been so thoroughly shagged._

Draco's laugh made her jump in her seat, and he reached over. "Your shirt!" He wheezed. "It's inside out."

Well, fuck.

* * *

Theo had not spoken to her, or Draco as far as she knew, since the day outside of the library. Hermione wasn't upset, though a tiny bit of guilt ate at her for that. Theo had been her friend too, and it stung terribly to lose said friendship, but she didn't believe there was any repairing the damage between the two men.

And it wasn't her obligation to fix them as Pansy told her repeatedly to assuage her guilt, even though she should have been more focused on the ultrasound appointment they were in, and her unborn child. She laid on the bed, clad in the flimsy gown and she reached over to slap Hermione's shoulder. "You're worrying about this too much. What does Draco think?"

Hermione sighed, her shoulders deflating as she slumped into her chair. "He constantly reminds me how I wear my heart on my sleeve."

She nodded. "I'd drink to that if I didn't have a crotch gremlin inside of me."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth to muffle the obnoxious laugh that came from her just as the door opened, and the nurse quietly stepped inside.

"Hello," she greeted, grabbing the chart and taking a seat on the stool before rolling the chair toward them. "How are you today, Miss Parkinson?"

"I feel bloated all the time," Pansy remarked dryly, and Hermione laughed lightly. "This is Hermione."

"Hi," Hermione said quietly, offering a small wave.

"And she's who I would like you to tell the gender to." Pansy grinned.

"Will do." Nurse Pomfrey - Hermione peeked at the tag fastened to her scrubs - replied.

Hermione sat back in her seat, often laughing quietly as Pansy would often complain about the finer -  _terrible -_ parts of pregnancy.

Such as the fact that she needed to drink so much water before her ultrasound, and then hold it to get an accurate read.

When Hermione snorted softly, Pansy's head snapped to hers. "You just wait, Granger. This will be you eventually, and I will be there to make sure you remember laughing at my misfortune."

The appointment itself passed quickly. Seeing the black and white picture on the screen, Hermione's voice caught in her throat. This was a baby, and all at once, it seemed to strike her just how majorly Pansy's life was going to change.

Obviously, it was hard to miss that she was pregnant, with her now showing a minuscule bump through her clothes. And Hermione knew that eventually, she would meet the bouncing bundle of joy, and she  _knew_  from a purely factual standpoint that Pansy was happy.

Nothing came close to the look of awe, love, and just a bit of fear that was in Pansy's face. Her lower lip trembled as all of her complaints of wanting to run to the nearest loo all but vanished.

The nurse was smiling ear to ear, rubbing the instrument across her belly. "Have you ever seen an ultrasound?" Pomfrey asked Hermione.

She shook her head, leaning forward in her seat. "I can't believe that's a baby," she murmured and grabbed Pansy's hand. "No wonder Harry never misses an appointment."

Pansy gave her a watery smile. "Yeah, he was upset he had to miss it today."

And Hermione could understand why.

Nurse Pomfrey gave Pansy one envelope, ultrasound pictures inside. "And this," she said, turning to Hermione and pressing the second envelope into her hand, "is for you. The baby was quite cooperative with us today, so the sex is inside."

"Don't look," Pansy quickly said. "I'm afraid I'll beg you to tell me." She looped her arm through Hermione's as they exited the clinic.

* * *

Between studying - which was a hard task to complete when all she really wanted to do was be with Draco - planning a gender reveal party with Narcissa, and actually spending time with Draco, Hermione didn't even have time to think about anything else.

Which was for the best.

Part way through the afternoon, Draco came into the kitchen, leaning on the back of Hermione's chair as she discussed party plans with Narcissa. "Ready to take a break?" he asked.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth twitched. "By all means." She waved them off. "Take a break."

Hermione shook her head. "No, we should finish what we have left. Plus we're picking up decorations and party favours in a couple of hours—"

Draco pulled sharply on one of her curls. "Granger, we can still pick up everything after we take a break."

She turned in her seat, staring at him. "What do you need to take a break for? Haven't you just spent the entire day having a lie in?"

"If you really must know, I was actually on a call for my father, and I only had a lie in until noon," he replied.

" _Only_ noon?" Hermione asked dramatically. "You poor thing, you must be exhausted."

Narcissa cleared her throat. "Well, I was worried you two wouldn't be so entertaining anymore as you're grossly head over heels for another, but it's nice to see that you still bicker."

There was a beat of silence and then Hermione said flatly, "Draco started it."

"Are you twelve years old?" Draco snorted and tilted her chair back.

Flailing her arms was the worst thing she could have done right then, but Draco prevented her from falling.

Narcissa sighed. "I find that I am a bit tired. I think I'll go lie down and watch the telly. The two of you should do something." She rose from the table with a flourish, wrapping her shawl tightly around her frame and padded out of the kitchen.

Draco looked down at her. "How do you feel about ice cream?"

She paused. "I'm bringing my work with me."

"Absolutely not."

* * *

She had never taken note of the ice cream parlour just a few streets over from the book shop. It was a small building sandwiched between two rivalling boutiques. There was an awning over the display window, painted a pretty turquoise.

"This is cute," she said, slipping her hand into Draco's and pulling him off the sidewalk in a hurry.

White walls welcomed them, with a long counter in the back of the room. A teenage girl behind the counter waved and called out a hello as she carried pans to the back of the shop.

Standing side by side, shoulders bumping together, Hermione ordered an ice cream sundae, sans sprinkles, and with extra caramel sauce. Draco ordered a sundae that was at least double the size of hers and slid a wrinkled bill across the counter. "Pick a seat," he told her.

Hermione turned away without preamble, popping her cherry into her mouth as she took the seat by the open window. Sunlight poured through it, sprawling across the white tile. In the booth, Draco sat directly beside her, gaping in a mock offence when she snatched his cherry away from him. "Girlfriend tax," Hermione muttered. "Can you tie the stem in a knot?"

"Can  _you_?"

Rolling her eyes at the obvious challenge, she nodded. "Want to see?"

"Are you really asking?"

Biting the inside of her cheek, Hermione didn't offer an equally snarky response. Instead, she settled for proving him wrong and waving the recently tied cherry stem in front of her. "In your face."

He smirked at her enthusiasm, leaning back against the booth, and popping his cherry stem into his mouth. Not one to be outdone, he did just the same in half of the time. "Well, that certainly explains some things." Draco murmured against her ear.

Hermione flushed, casting a long glance across the room. "There are children here. You can't just allude to things like that!"

He shrugged. "I did nothing of the sort."

"And you say I'm the terrible liar."

He chuckled under his breath, leaning forward to wipe the corner of her mouth. "You had something, and you were too angry to point out that your ice cream was dribbling." Pleased with the little bit of colour spiralling down her neck, Draco shrugged. "Tell me more about you."

She stared at him, her spoon halfway to her mouth. "There's not much to tell. I'm really rather boring, and I'm not at all sure how I bagged you for myself."

Draco snorted. "Boring? You must be joking."

"Please don't bring up the mugger."

"Fine. What did you do as a child then?"

"Are you asking me seriously? I've told you before I didn't have friends." And she hadn't, which was the biggest reason her entire trip had felt more like a dream than reality. "As a child, I went everywhere my mother went. As lame as it might sound, she was my best friend, too." Though Jean Granger never let her forget that she was her mother first and friend second. "I read a lot, and summer breaks were always stretched out, and I couldn't wait to be back in school."

He smiled. "That sounds a lot like you. As you grew up then?"

There wasn't an awful lot to tell. She had come to terms with more or less being a blank slate when her plane had touched the tarmac. Hermione Granger who lived in a small town centred in Oklahoma felt like a completely different person than the Hermione Granger who had actually  _lived._

"I went to church with my mum every Wednesday and Sunday, though as I got older I wasn't as firm in my faith as she was. I attended piano lessons once a week on Mondays with the preacher's wife, and those were lovely. I sang in the choir when my mum begged me to..." Hermione could have gone on with the mundane, miniscule parts of her childhood, but she cut herself off.

"What is it?"

Hermione was used to smirks and lopsided grins that always surprised her. So, each time that Draco smiled at her like she was the best part of the moment, it sent her heart out of rhythm.

"You're always smiling at me," she whispered, and her eyes widened once she realized that it hadn't only been an internal monologue. "I didn't mean to say that. It's not a bad thing, oh, hell," Hermione muttered as he laughed, sliding an arm around her shoulders. "Stop laughing at me!" She growled, pinching his arm.

He yelped, headbutting her, and still laughed. "I'm not laughing at you, I swear."

"It sure seems like it."

"You're just so fucking cute that I can't stand it," he breathed, looking at her once more. And she fully recognized that look - it was the one that had raked over her as fingers wound into her thick hair and backed her down a corridor. "I smile at you because I can't help it," he murmured, raising her hand and pressing his lips softly to her knuckles.

Her ice cream was long forgotten as she let that sink in.

The two of them spent an hour more in the shop, huddled close together on one side of the booth. Seemingly, Draco had told the truth when he said that he wanted to know all about her. Down to the most embarrassing things.

"Blue is your favourite colour?" he asked, peeking down at his shirt.

She laughed. "Don't go flattering yourself."

"I'm most certainly not. I was just thinking how I could go pick up more blue clothing," Draco retorted, a broad smile stretching across his lips. "What's your favourite animal?"

It was an otter, but she wasn't sure anyone had ever asked such a silly question after she'd left elementary school. They talked about her family, which always brought out the best in her; she murmured how losing her mother could probably be put into words, but she just hadn't found them yet. They discussed American politics, and it was clear he enjoyed riling her up...

...Liked the way red sprang to her cheeks as she flushed with indignation as he played devil's advocate. He loved sweets, mostly chocolate. Draco liked to talk about his mum, a fond expression crossing over his face and smoothing out the lines where he frowned as he recalled the distant memories of his childhood.

By the time either of them thought to take another bite of ice cream, they realized that it had already melted. Sighing, Hermione grabbed a napkin and attempted to clean the stain that dripped down the front of her jumper. There would be no hiding it. "How long have we been here?"

Draco looked at his watch. "Couple of hours. Are you ready to leave?"

Unprepared for the unfamiliar beat of her erratic heartbeat, she shook her head before she even thought to. "No, not really. I have plenty of time for planning, I suppose."

It was a moment where he probably could have kissed her, and she was waiting for him to lean in. Instead, tilting his head to the side and resting his arm on the table he said, "What's one item on your list that you want to do the most?"

Instinctively, her eyes flicked to the space where a tattoo was sitting on her flesh, just beneath the sleeve of her maroon jumper. In the beginning, it  _had_  been her number one thing to do. "Um..." She stalled, hauling her backpack into the seat and pulling the zipper open. There, in the smallest compartment was her copy of the book with the list neatly tucked inside.

Hermione laid the book in front of them, careful to move the dish out of the way first. Unfolding the square piece of paper, she flattened it on the table. "You're not going to believe me," she muttered, already laughing softly to herself as she slid the paper toward him, her index finger below her mother's handwriting. "I would have never written it down, but Mum knew me best, and she encouraged me to do it."

Draco choked on his laugh, and when she whacked him on the back it didn't help matters at all. "You were right. I can't believe it. Skydiving?"

She held her hands up, shrugging. "I think it would be exhilarating, don't you?" Not that she expected him to; jumping out of a plane - even if you were strapped to someone - should terrify anyone.

"I think it'd be bloody terrifying." He chuckled, sliding the list back to her, not peeking at the other items. "You showed me one thing. I'm not going to go a mile when you give me an inch."

Hermione swallowed. "I might be an adrenaline junkie."

His eyes were bright beneath the faux crystal chandeliers in the ice cream parlour. "Might be? I'd say you are." Draco gave a dramatic pause. "Let's do it; this weekend?"

She gaped at him, a strangled sound coming from her throat. "Really? But you just said —"

His air of nonchalance made it seem like he pondered this sort of thing every day. Plummeting toward the ground from thousands of feet up seemed normal, and she was immediately cut off. "Do you want to do it alone?"

"Well, no, but I wouldn't want to force you into coming along, intentional or unintentional." Hermione swallowed. "You said yourself it would be bloody terrifying."

"And it will be." He chuckled. "But it will make a fantastic story."

"This weekend then, so long as we can actually do it so soon. There may be classes we have to take before they let us take the jump. We'll be attached to instructors as well."

"Oh, fuck, I cannot wait to see your face when you jump." Draco smirked, clearly thrilled with the outcome.

She snorted, her hand flying to her heart. "I'd be more worried about yourself, sweetheart." Hermione was tired of her cheeks growing hot, which they infinitely did around this man. She clapped her hand over her mouth as the sound of her drawl, much more pronounced met her ears.

"Was that an accent?" he asked slyly, eyes cutting to her as they stood, and he left a tip on the table. Larger than to be expected, sure, but they had taken up the lobby for hours.

"I try not to let it be very pronounced."

"It's very cute."

Her midwestern drawl was decidedly not cute, she assured him.

* * *

Pansy's baby shower marked exactly two and a half months until she would return home. And Hermione would be lying if she said she still thought of America as home, and if she said the reality setting in didn't scare the hell out of her.

Hermione met James and Lily Potter on the steps of the manor, and Hermione took an instant liking to Lily. For one, she had apparently been quite the bookwork when she was in school, but they also shared a long running dislike of Horace Slughorn.

Despite meticulous planning, it wouldn't have been a party if something hadn't gone wrong. Harry tripped and dropped the cake. So it was a last minute rescue mission to make sure Pansy  _didn't_ see the blue cake batter inside the blasted thing, and she yelled at Harry in the middle of the kitchen that if he knew what was good for him, he wouldn't tell Pansy that he had been right all along.

She'd dragged Draco to a gift shop in the middle of the party, snatching a pinata off of the shelf - which happened to be the ugliest fucking llama she had  _ever_  seen - and she stuffed it full of candies wrapped in blue foil.

Watching Pansy's hands fly to her face as blue rained down around her and Harry, her eyes filling with tears, had to be one of the most humbling experiences Hermione had undergone since arriving. Pansy lunged for her, forgetting that her ankles popped with every movement as she flung her arms around Hermione's neck. "Thank you for this," Pansy whispered.

Later, they would tell her the pinata had been improvisation. For now, Hermione stood amidst the chaos that was all of her friends and wondered how on earth she was going to leave them so soon.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story either has three chapters left and an epilogue, or two chapters left and an epilogue. I haven't decided if what I originally had planned will be enough to split chapter twenty-two and twenty-three. That being said, we're really close to the end. I expect to have some difficulty writing the next chapter, and definitely the epilogue since it's hard to end a story.
> 
> Thank you for coming on this adventure with me. It's bittersweet to know how close I am to finishing. But thank you for all of the follows, and the most reviews I've ever had on FFN. I can't wait to see where this finishes. I hope to see you in the next week-ish.
> 
> MrsRen.


	22. Life Comes Crashing

 

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Two: Life Comes Crashing_

Hermione stretched in the bed, her legs sliding against the soft sheets as she snuggled closer to the man beside her. "Draco," she whispered, tapping him on the nose. "Wake up."

He groaned a response, looping one strong arm around her waist and pulling her closer. "Sleep, Granger."

She shook her head. "You promised that you'd planned something today." Hermione murmured, pressing her lips to his bare chest. His skin was hot beneath her splayed fingers. "Draco," she nudged.

Draco cracked one eye open, glaring at her. "I guarantee I didn't plan anything for—" he craned his head back to look at the alarm clock "— _six_  in the morning?" he growled, his glare returning to her in earnest.

Offering a sheepish smile, Hermione moved to straddle his waist. "It's a possibility that I'm a little excited."

He snorted. "You don't say? You kept me up all night, and I am not going to move from this bed until nine o'clock at the earliest."

She sighed a bit, and moved to climb out of bed. "I'll wake you at nine o'clock on the dot."

He frowned. "Where are you going? Come back to bed."

She pulled on the pair of shorts that he'd thrown across the room the previous night. "I'm going to make some coffee and then study. I can't sleep."

As he ran a hand tiredly down his face, Draco sighed. "You're going to worry yourself sick over exams. It's not worth it, especially when you're using it to avoid the fact that you're meant to be leaving soon."

Hermione froze as she clasped her bra. "That's not what I'm doing," she whispered. "I just want to prove that I deserved to come here, is all."

He rolled onto his side, facing her as he propped his head up in his hand. "I'm sure that's part of it, but it's certainly not all of it. I told you I wouldn't force you to talk about it, but you realise we'll need to, don't you?"

She fell silent, unsure of what to say.

"Talk to me," he pleaded.

She knew that she should. He was in it too now, and if she should talk to anyone, it ought to be him.

Hermione sighed. "I know we have to talk about it, but I don't want to think about how there is going to an ocean between everything I love, and myself."

"Then stay with me."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

Draco stood from the bed, padding towards her before he cupped her face. "It's the only option, the way that I see it. Unless… you don't want to?"

It was an easy choice, but it was a massive decision nonetheless, and she would think on it first. "That's not what I'm saying at all. I just want to think about it."

His nostrils flared. "What is there to think about?"

She hadn't expected the hurt that flickered across his face, and the way his jaw set. His hands fell away from her cheeks, and he took a step away from her. "Draco, I didn't mean for that to hurt you."

"Funny how it stings so much then, isn't it?" he asked harshly.

Her mouth fell open. "Are we going to fight about this?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. I'm just going to crawl back into bed while you have a think as to whether or not you want to leave."

He might as well have slapped her. Hermione turned on her heel, and no matter what he said, it was definitely their first fight.

* * *

She spent the morning on the porch, coffee mug in hand and her hair tied into a ridiculous bun on the top of her head. Strands of hair kept slipping free, and it was anything but a pretty sight. Hermione balanced her textbook open on her knee, flipping through the pages as she guzzled her drink.

She was already down three cups, and if stress didn't cause her heart to give out, the caffeine would.

Even though she read each page, her mind was elsewhere. She hadn't meant for the conversation to go sideways, but as she reflected on it, there was a sinking feeling in Hermione's stomach. Draco's eyes had been so full of love, despite never having said it, when he asked her to stay.

Not only to stay, but to stay with  _him_.

Sighing quietly to herself, she closed the book, and stared down the gravel drive of Malfoy Manor. It was half past ten now, and he was likely still asleep upstairs. She'd considered waking him right at nine as if nothing had ever happened, but she feared she'd see that crestfallen expression on his face once more.

The door slammed open behind her, making her jump. Knowing who it was just by the heavy footfalls, she didn't turn around. Doc Martens stopped right beside her, and she still didn't look up.

"You said you would wake me up at nine," he rasped, his voice still thick with sleep. Draco sat beside her, stretching his legs against the steps.

Hermione pretended to be distracted by how much longer his legs were. "You were angry with me. I thought it would be better to give you space." She idly picked at her fingernails. "I'm sorry."

"Instead of reacting as I did, I should have asked you what was holding you back," Draco murmured.

She glanced up at him, still fidgeting with her hands. "There's not,"

Draco pursed his lips, giving her a hard look. "There's a reason you didn't say yes on the spot. I don't understand at all, but if you had wanted to tell me, you would have. It's okay."

Hermione could have blurted out that she was in love with him, and had been for an undetermined amount of time. She should have admitted that she was terrified to stay and have their relationship crumble around them, or that maybe he would never love her. She huffed. The thought itself was ridiculous. Here was Draco Malfoy, a man who would never jump into a commitment without having thought it through.

She might as well admit the truth, at least to herself, that her fear of staying and their relationship failing had wiggled into her head. It wasn't a hard decision, knowing she wanted to launch herself at him, and shout in agreement.

Hermione still wanted the chance to gather her thoughts.

She wondered what his response would be if she did admit her feelings. Would he answer in kind? And if he did, would it be the truth, or something said out of guilt?

"I'm sorry." She swallowed.

Draco wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple. "We'll need to talk about it soon."

She knew that, but her stomach twisted all over again. Hermione nodded. "I know. I will. I just… have to find the words." It was the flimsiest excuse she'd ever given for anything, she thought. "You'll probably think it's ridiculous."

He chuckled, squeezing her. "If it worries you, it worries me."

Her chest deflated. Hermione stared up at him, overcome by all of her conflicting emotions at once, and she kissed him. His fingers threaded into her hair as she clutched his shirt in both hands. "You can't say shit like that." She gasped.

He laughed against her lips. "If it earns me this, maybe I should say things like it more often."

"You're the  _worst."_

* * *

They had the house to themselves by lunch time. Lucius and Narcissa were away for the rest of the weekend, having decided to drive up to the estate where Draco had attempted teaching Hermione to drive.

"So," Hermione began, "what have you planned for the day?"

Draco was hunched over the stovetop. He was shirtless, and he'd slung a towel over his shoulder "Well, I'd planned to make you breakfast this morning, but you never woke me up."

She snorted. "A decision I still stand by."

He flipped the pancakes as he rolled his eyes. "Since you didn't, you're getting breakfast for lunch instead."

"And after lunch?" she asked.

He shrugged, the muscles in his back contracting. "Not sure. I might fuck you over the counter." Draco popped a ration of bacon into her mouth before she could manage a reply. "It's impolite to speak with your mouth full, Granger."

She begrudgingly chewed, her cheeks flaming. "You can't just say things like that!"

He arched an eyebrow. "And what exactly am I allowed to say? You're not leaving me many options now." Draco pulled a familiar piece of paper from his back pocket. "I know the last time you saw me with this, you made our lives utter hell for a month, but please don't freak out this time."

She eyed the bucket list. "Draco!" Hermione groaned, exasperated. "Can't you let it go?"

"Definitely not. I nicked this from your handbag this morning," Draco continued, unfolding the list and laying it on the counter. "Now, we'll be crossing out a few things today so you'd do well to keep up." He pulled another paper from his pocket, this one folded neatly, and her name was written across the side of it. "I've already marked this one off."

Hermione picked up the list in one hand as she took the second paper from his grasp with the other. Halfway down the list, there was a bold line drawn through number seventeen.  _Receive a love letter._

Her mouth fell open as she looked to him. "You're kidding."

He grinned, flipping the second batch of pancakes. "I admit I've never written a love letter before, but there are several things I'd never done for anyone before you. Go on, open it. I can't promise that it's any good, however."

Her eyes already filling with tears, Hermione murmured, "It came from you. I'm going to love it."

It was clear that he had taken his time. She noted the date in the upper right hand corner, her heart shuddering in her chest. It had been written two weeks prior, in the midst of all that was completely new in their relationship.

_Hermione,_

_I'd like to let it be known that I have no idea what to say. Am I meant to tell you all of the things I love about you? If so, I'm afraid I would write a novel, and that I still wouldn't have enough room. Am I meant to list off all of the wonderful memories that I've made with you? If so, we wouldn't be here quite as long, but I would be pressed to tell you that I want to make a million more._

_I'm not the sappy sort. I might not tell you that you're beautiful every day, even though you are, and I should. I might not always give the impression that I'm grateful to have you in my life, and especially at my side, even though I truly am. I remember acting like a tremendous prat in the middle of an airport and then making you cry in my car. I remember everything from that first day, and in hindsight, I can see how you became such an instrumental part of my life._

_You're beautiful, and that's the least interesting part about you. Forgive me for ever doing you the disservice of thinking that even though it was only to myself. Yes, you are stunning and exquisite, but you are so much more than that. I should have thought you intelligent, or brave before I thought you were pretty. And perhaps that won't make any sense to you, but you deserve to hear it every day._

_You are brave—as I saw when you chased a man for no reason other than it was the right thing to do. You're courageous for uprooting your life and coming here in the wake of losing the most important person of your life._

_And I'm selfishly thankful for that, as it led to you to become the most important person of my life._

_And all of your qualities, which span far beyond the measly few I've mentioned here, are everything._

_You are the best part of me._

_Love, Draco._

Tears slid down her face as she read it a second time, tightly clutching the paper in her hands. Maybe he hadn't said it how she expected it, but he'd said it all the same, and her heart was threatening to give out as she swayed on her feet.

"Oh, my God." she whispered.

An uneasy laugh reached her. "Was it that bad?"

The paper fluttered to the ground as she lunged at him, a blur of mahogany coloured hair as she tackled him to the tile. It wasn't a comfortable landing, but he made no complaints as his fingers slid into her hair. His mouth slanted against hers, and she straddled his waist.

Hermione feverishly kissed him. "You're everything," she whispered, and it was as close as she could come to telling him she loved him. " _Everything_ ," she insisted as his arms circled her waist.

"The food is burning," he murmured, wiping away tears with his thumbs. Draco pressed a kiss to her forehead. "We have a full day planned. Let me up, yeah?"

"I'd really rather not."

He laughed.

* * *

Breakfast ended with them in his bed once more, and then in the shower. Hermione was deliciously sore as he led her to the car. Draco hadn't told her where they were going, but he'd told her to keep her list with her, just in case. As the last thing had been said with a wink, she found herself going over it again and again.

They were already signed up for skydiving lessons, but the actual act of jumping out of a plane wouldn't happen until early June. She joked that it was an early birthday present for him, but he always shot her a dark look.

The only clue she had were two large bags filled with stuffed animals and various plushies in the trunk of his car. It wasn't much to go on.

"Will you tell me yet?" Hermione asked.

"Has anyone ever told you how bloody impatient you are?"

Hermione laughed, shrugging her shoulders. "It's been mentioned once or twice."

He drove with one hand on the wheel with his arm resting on the centre console while he held her hand. "I might as well tell you before we get there. My mother is on the board for an orphanage here in Oxford. It's called Wool's Orphanage. When I was younger, I would visit each weekend, play with the kids there."

She'd never heard of any of this. Narcissa had never mentioned it, and Draco wasn't the most forthcoming person either. "What was that like?"

"Whenever I would return, there was often a mix of elation and sadness when a friend I'd made was adopted. I enjoyed the visits. Mother would bring Theo and Ginny along sometimes, and we would organise rugby matches on the lawn. I broke a window once, and another child insisted that he'd done it instead."

Hermione nodded, a small smile curving her lips. "I bet your mother knew. Does she still visit?"

"Not as often as she would like. With her health taking a turn for the worse last year, she's stayed home more than she ever has before. She was thrilled to hear I was taking you today." He brushed a thumb over her knuckles. "As soon as I told her, she rushed out to buy as many stuffed animals as she could find."

That did explain the bags in the trunk. "Why did you decide to bring me then? Not that I'm complaining—I'm eager to go—but I thought you said we were marking items off?"

"Number nine of your list, Granger."

_Change someone's life._

Her mouth dried. "Isn't it a bit of an overstatement to say that a visit and presents will change their life?"

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched. "No, it's not. It's not so often they get visitors sadly. Nonetheless, even if you didn't change any of their lives, you've already changed mine."

The useless organ in her chest rattled against her rib cage as she stared at him. "You  _can't_ just—"

His laughter cut her off, and she fell into her own fit of giggles beside him.

* * *

Wool's Orphanage was a large house that resembled Malfoy Manor. Tucked away from the looming public eye, Hermione expected to see a building resembling Victorian architecture as they made their way up the long, paved drive.

She knew in an instant that Narcissa Malfoy had designed this, something she asked Draco before they even left the car.

He smiled at the question, seemingly reminded of distant memories. "Oh, yes. She'll tell you all about how she hated the old orphanage. It was designed in the twenties, and it resembled an asylum more than a home for children. Mother bought the property, and slated it for demolition the moment the deed was signed. That's not to say she was the only one who'd had a hand in this. Theo's mum helped with funding."

They hadn't talked about Theo, and Hermione didn't linger on it any longer than she had to. "It's stunning." Hermione followed him, taking the lighter bag of the two from his extended hand. "I want to hear all about the work she did later."

He gave a nod.

The moment that he pushed the door open, they were met with an impeccably dressed gentleman who greeted Draco by name. "It's been a few months, my boy! Where have you been?"

Draco wrapped the man in a one armed, slightly awkward, hug. "Around. Mother's health wasn't good for a short while, and this young woman—" he gestured to Hermione with a breathtaking grin on his face "—has been keeping me on my toes since September."

"Who might this be?" The man bustled toward her, offering a hand. He was much shorter than her, his hair cropped just above his ears. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Filius Flitwick, but please just call me Flitwick. All of the children do."

Hermione shook his head. "I'm Hermione. I'm a foreign exchange student stay with the Malfoy family this year. How long have you been here?"

The man laughed, his belly shaking, as he waved a hand. "'Cissa hired me shortly after she bought the establishment, and fired that nasty Mrs Cole."

She blinked. "I'm sorry, but I'm not familiar with that name. Though if she managed to get on Narcissa's bad side, I'm sure she was terrible."

Draco leaned against the door frame behind her. "I met her once when I was four. She was a right demon is what she was. No child who was under her care ever turned out right. It's a shame she was ever here."

Flitwick nodded. "A travesty, I'll say. We can tell you all about that later, but first, I assume the two of you aren't here to chit chat with an old man. Henry will be so thrilled you're here, Draco! He recently asked about you."

Draco's face brightened at the name. He led Hermione by the hand down the corridor where Flitwick pushed two double doors open. "Why are you nervous?" Draco whispered to her.

So she wasn't as inconspicuous as she'd thought. "I've never been very good with children. I'm worried they won't like me."

"What about the little Weasley spawn?"

"Victoire?" she asked dryly. "That child gave me a run for my money. I'm not sure what I would have done if you hadn't come home."

"She adored you."

Hermione swallowed. "I'm just not sure."

"Don't worry about that. They'll love you," Draco whispered as he led her into the room.

She had a moment to take in the vaulted ceilings and the pretty chandeliers, followed by the furniture that closely resembled that at Malfoy Manor.

"Draco!" A young child, no older than seven, ran to the man beside her. He wrapped his small arms around Draco's middle, squealing with excitement as Draco picked him up. "They didn't tell us you were coming!"

Draco wore a genuine smile, spinning the child twice before setting him back on his feet. "I know. It was a surprise. How is everyone?"

Hermione stood behind him, watching as several children answered him all at once. They were scrambling for him even, each of them hugging him tightly whenever they got the chance. She wondered how long each child had been in the orphanage already, and if this was only one group of many. She supposed it had to be. Surely there were other children older than the lot in front of her.

"Granger, come here!" Draco called out.

Hermione sat beside him on the floral sofa, crossing her ankles as she set her bag at her feet. Still grinning ear to ear, she let her hands rest in her lap. "Hello," she greeted the little girl that came to stand right in front of her. "What's your name?"

"Susan," she answered. Susan's dress was dirtied at the hem, likely from playing outside, and her hair was coming free from her braid. "Your name is Granger?"

She laughed. "My name is Hermione Granger. Draco calls me Granger. Would you mind if I pulled the twigs from your hair?"

Susan beamed at her, turning around and hopping onto the cushions between Hermione's legs.

She'd been worried the children may shy away from her, a complete stranger, but Hermione was pleased to find that she was wrong.

"Will you fix my braid? Flitwick isn't very good at braiding."

Stifling a laugh, Hermione agreed.

There was only so much Hermione could do without a brush, but she wasn't about to go searching for one. Once her hair was free of twigs, and leaves, Hermione french braided Susan's hair before letting her go.

Wide eyed, Susan raised her hands to her hair. "It's so different!"

Hermione nodded. "It shouldn't fall down as easily, not even when you run."

Draco bumped his shoulder against hers. "I told you they would like you, didn't I?" Clearing his throat, he said, "We've brought presents today. Has everyone been good?"

There were several nods, but then there was a loud, "Marcus broke McGonagall's lamp and lied about it!"

Followed by a, "Molly, you promised you wouldn't tell!"

Hermione sniggered as she leaned into Draco's side. "Are they always like this?" she murmured.

"Yeah, they're a handful."

They opened the bags, and Hermione was surprised to see how many eyes filled with tears as they grabbed one, clutching the plushies to their chests. The younger kids didn't hide their wet faces as the wiped their eyes.

She watched as they gave whispered thanks. Hermione's eyes filled with tears of her own as each child embraced her tightly.

Draco had been right. It sure  _felt_  like changing a life—several of them, in fact.

* * *

She'd spend her entire afternoon outside at the orphanage, chasing children around the lawn and laughing as she constantly tripped. Susan stuck to her side, as did Molly and Marcus, the last two having sorted out their minor feud.

There was a tire swing attached to a tall oak tree in the yard that Susan insisted Hermione swing on, and she had agreed.

She hadn't expected Draco to be the one pushing her.

"Wait!" she cried, her eyes widening as he marched toward her with a smirk on his face. "You're going to push me so hard I fly out of the swing!"

Marcus glanced between them. "We have a helmet and knee pads somewhere."

Hermione didn't much like the sound of that either. "No, I think I'll just—Draco, no!" Her protests were ignored as he took hold of the chains and pushed her as hard as he could.

Hermione shrieked, not liking the sound of the creaking branch over her head one single bit.

_It was going to break. It was going to break._

He caught the tire by the inside of it, pulling it to a stop with a jerky motion. He was wheezing, and blond strands had fallen into his face. "You aren't going to die. You can stop screaming." He smirked.

Her cheeks caught fire. "I could fall and break my neck," Hermione retorted, raising her chin. "You never know what could happen."

"I know that I've launched enough kids out of this swing to know that you'll probably be okay." Draco laughed.

Her mouth fell open. "You've what?"

"I broke my arm once when he was swinging me!" Marcus shouted. "Can I have a turn now, Draco? Will you push me?"

Draco took her hands to help her out of the swing… but her shoe got stuck, and he sighed. "You're a mess, Granger," he muttered, and wrapped one arm around her waist.

He set her on the ground, still holding her to his side. "It looks like it's going to rain," he told the children as thunder clapped overhead. "Why don't all of you go inside, and we'll follow you in a few minutes?"

He watched as they all trudged to the doors, some grumbling as they did so.

Draco looked to her for a moment before shaking his head, and murmuring a quiet, "Not yet."

* * *

Hermione sat in the passenger seat, swaying side to side to the rhythm of loud rock music pouring from the speakers. Drawing a dark line through the list item, she hummed quietly.

"Any other plans I should know about?" Hermione asked.

With him still staring straight ahead, all she could see was half of his smile. "I'm not sure if you need to know about it, but yeah, one more thing before we go back to the Manor." He pressed down on the brakes, veering out of his lane and onto the side of the road. "Come on. Don't ask questions for once, Granger," Draco said as he unclicked his seatbelt. "Get out of the car."

She stared at him, confusion clouding her features. "It's about to storm though."

He nodded. "I'm not blind. I know it's going to rain."

"But—"

"If you don't get out of the car, I'll just pull you out myself."

Muttering under her breath, she looked in the side mirror to be sure no cars were coming. Hermione slid out of the car, closing the door before jogging down the decline of the country road. Draco slid his hands into his pockets.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

His smirk seemed to be permanent. "You have no idea?"

Hermione shook her head, and several beats of silence passed before she spoke again. "Draco?" she asked. "We should get in the car now. We'll be soaked otherwise, and I don't feel like wearing wet clothes."

"What sort of man do you take me for?" Draco asked, clearly amused as he looked down at her. "I planned for this. There's a spare change of clothes and towels to lay on the seats in the car."

Her brows drew together. "What do you mean you planned for this?"

He pulled her closer to him by the belt loops on her jeans, a smug smirk crossing his face. "Number five on your bucket list is to be kissed in the rain." At her quiet gasp, and the muted shock on her face, he continued, "I'll admit I thought it was cute when I first saw it, and it made me laugh. My mother promptly whacked me with a newspaper before explaining to me that it was impolite to laugh."

"Well, she's right. It's impolite to laugh at my list." Hermione leaned into him, her hands resting on his biceps. "I thought it was ridiculous, but my mother knew how much I enjoyed that particular scene in  _The_   _Notebook."_

Draco's hands fell away from the hem of her jeans, settling on her hips. "I watched that movie. I didn't care for it," he murmured.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Hermione tilted her head to the side. "I'm so happy to be with you," she whispered, her eyes meeting his. "Not that anyone will ever believe me, but you're a complete and utter sap."

He shrugged. "You make me want to sweep you off your feet."

She giggled, following his eyes as he looked up. "Well, mission accomplished then. I think we've both come a long way since New Year's, and in such a short amount of time…"

Lightning split the sky, and a crack of thunder followed it. Draco picked her up swiftly, earning a squeak from her, and pressed his lips to hers. Sliding her hands into his hair, Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist. And the sky opened up, rain pouring down around them.

It didn't bother her, not as his lips moved against hers as she strained to pull him closer.

On the side of an English highway, in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, Hermione Granger felt whole.

* * *

They saw a movie, but if you asked her what had happened, she would tell you she had no earthly idea. She remembered buying tickets, and a large popcorn that had mistakenly been dropped in the floor. Hermione realised that the theatre was empty, and that was all it had taken for her to crawl into Draco's lap.

And he'd had to go for a refill with dishevelled hair, bruised lips, and a semi deep scratch peeking out from his shirt.

The employees had given them a dirty look as they left.

"You shouldn't have taken my knickers," she muttered as she pulled the seatbelt across her chest.

He was oddly quiet at her side. "Shite."

Her head snapped up. "What is it?"

"I forgot something in the theatre." Draco grimaced.

"Your wallet?" she guessed.

He shook his head. "The condom."

All of the blood drained from her face, her mouth falling open. "You're kidding."

Again, he shook his head.

Hermione glanced at the building through the downpour. "We're never coming here again!" she hissed, dragging a hand down her face as she laughed. "I can't believe this. You were too focused on putting my knickers in your pocket, weren't you?"

He had the good graces to at least appear sheepish. "Perhaps a bit. Are you sure we can't come back? The reclining seats were so nice."

She playfully swatted his chest.

* * *

The manor was abnormally quiet when they returned. Narcissa and Lucius weren't due home until the end of the weekend, but Lucius' vehicle was sitting in the drive. She exchanged a look with Draco, quickly unbuckling before throwing the car door open. She wasn't sure how to explain the sinking feeling in her stomach.

She could see Narcissa's handbag in the passenger seat, and that wasn't normal at all.

In the foyer, Hermione recognised her luggage, several suitcases that had been in storage for months now. They looked to be fully packed, and she was met with Narcissa, standing with slumped shoulders, and puffy eyes, the older woman stared at Hermione. "Oh, please don't think we want you to leave."

Draco came to a sudden stop behind her, his hard chest bumping against her back. "What's going on?" Apprehension coloured his tone.

Hermione didn't need to see him to know that fear was etched into his expression.

Lucius was holding a nearly empty whiskey tumblr in his face. Leaning against the door trim leading into the kitchen, he sighed. "Today Narcissa and I received a phone call from Jonathan Wood."

"What?" Hermione asked. "John is a pastor of the church I attended as a child. Why would he call you?" It was a silly question. Clearly something was wrong.

Narcissa was near bursting into tears. "Your home was ransacked a few days ago. We were informed by Jonathan that Jean left him the means to control her assets, and by extension, yours while you were here for the year. It looks as if several things have been stolen, but unfortunately, he had no way of reporting what has been stolen."

Only slightly aware of Draco running his hands up and down her arms, Hermione nodded. "Of course not. He probably hasn't been inside the house since she died." She didn't flinch at her own words and anger boiled up in the pit of her stomach. "Did he say if they had any idea who broke in?"

"No," Narcissa said. "We bought you a plane ticket. I assumed that you would want to leave as soon as you could. The flight isn't until late tomorrow night, but your professors have agreed to let you sit for your exams tomorrow, if you would like."

"She can take them when she comes back." Draco interjected, hopeful.

_Fuck, we were supposed to talk about it and now…_

Hermione cut him off before he could speak again. "It's fine. I'm ready to take them. I've spent the last several weeks studying, anyway." Her gaze fell on her suitcases, and she swallowed. "Did they say how long they thought it would take?"

"I'm sure you could come back as soon as you informed them of what is missing." Lucius said, his face weary as he downed the rest of his glass. "I thought you would like to stay until they apprehended the individual, or individuals that committed the crime."

She nodded. "You assume correctly."

Lucius set the glass down roughly. He tugged at the tie at his throat, quickly undoing the windsor knot. "I've contacted the credit card company, and you will have no problems using it internationally. I imagine the limit is set higher than what you will ever use, but should you need to raise it, I've added your name to the account to make such changes. The plane ticket I purchased is a one way trip, as I have no way of knowing when you'll return, but I sincerely hope that you do."

She smiled because it was the polite thing to do. All three of them were waiting with bated breath for her to break down in the middle of the foyer, and for a moment, Hermione thought she might.

She wanted to cry, and scream, but she didn't do any of that. Hermione smiled at Draco, a genuine smile after everything they had done today. "I suppose it was a good thing that I spent all of that time deflecting my emotions by studying, isn't it?" Hermione hurried up the stairs, tears forming in her eyes as soon as she had opened her mouth.

Draco sprinted up the stairs after her, and he caught her by the elbow just outside of her room. "Don't shut down on me, Hermione."

She hiccuped. "That's not what I'm trying to do, I swear."

He nodded, letting her wrap her arms around his waist as he rested his chin on her head. "I'm not going to ask you," Draco whispered, rubbing her back. "It would be in poor taste, considering why you're leaving."

"I'm not sure why I would stay there anyway." Her voice was muffled against his chest. "I'm afraid that if I come back, if I  _stay_ , that I'm only staying for you. And if this—" she sobbed "—comes down around my ears, I'm not sure I could ever look at you as just my friend. I think it's too far to ever—"

He tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him. "I understand. You wouldn't only be staying for me. There's Pansy, Ginny, Luna, and everyone else. You've made yourself quite the arsenal of friends."

She took a deep breath. "I have, and I would hate to be thousands of miles away from them. But I'd be lying if I said leaving you didn't hurt the worst because it would. I've never understood women who are devastated by separation. So knowing that, yeah. I'm sure I'll be back. And this time when you pick me up from the airport, you'd better be on your best behavior."

"I could come with you."

She froze. "Why would you want to?"

Draco swallowed. "I can't imagine letting you get on a plane and not going with you," he whispered.

Hermione nodded. "I can guarantee the trip will be entertaining. I'll probably tell you several ridiculous stories and drag you all over my small town. You might find me more irritating than normal afterward." She took a step backward, leading him with her, and her back hit the door. "Oklahoma is terribly boring. And it's tornado season now."

He blanched at that. "I'm sure it will be fine. What are the chances your town is stuck by a cyclone while we're there?"

"Well, if you ask any locals, they'll tell you that the town is protected by an Native American legend where they buried a hatchet in town and it wards off tornados." Hermione shrugged.

He blinked several times. "You're taking the mickey."

"No bullshite." She put her hands up, laughing loudly. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about tornados. What I'd really like to do is get my mind off of this. If you'd be so kind?"

Draco shook his head. "But I feel I should warn you that I left my coat downstairs, and your knickers are still in the pocket. Mother may—"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Go get the coat. Meet me in your room. I plan to be wearing nothing."

While it felt like the day was spinning rapidly out of control, which it  _was_ , she had to admit she was still ending it the way she'd hoped for.

Tomorrow was another story.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are rapidly snowballing toward the end of this story now. I've written the next chapter, and need to write the following chapter. After that is the epilogue, which is already written, and only requires a bit of tweaking. I feel fairly confident that I can update this once a week for the next three weeks.
> 
> I can't wait to hear what you think!So sorry this one is a bit late. If it helps, I wrote basically the rest of Wanderlust this week. So, this is chapter twenty-two, and I hope you'll tell me your thoughts about the dramione moments. (Which is basically all of it.)
> 
> Thank you always to Courting Insanity for being my beta for this story.


	23. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates! Thank you so much to CourtingInsanity for editing this during what's been a busy time for her! Credit to a wonderful tumblr post that inspired a bit of this chapter.

 

* * *

Hermione sat for her exams in relative silence. Her pen dragged across the paper, quickly filling in each answer because she knew it all like the back of her hand. Whether the nights had ended drastically different than they had began or not, she'd still spent much of the last two months studying. Taking her exams was the easy part.

It was everything else that made each step heavier, as if weights had been attached to the bottom of her shoes.

Hermione had visited Pansy that morning for coffee on her sofa. She relaxed against the cushions, watching Pansy as she demonstrated how she could balance a mug, or even a bowl, on her stomach now. It felt like a goodbye instead of a see you later, which was the caption line on the cheesy card her best friend had handed her. She'd murmured how everyone had signed it, just in case they didn't see her for a while.

Tears had rolled down her face as reality sunk in. She didn't know when she would be touching back down in England, and that was the worst part of it. Hermione promised to be back for Pansy's due date. They had hugged before they cried some more, and Harry had wrapped Hermione in a tight hug before letting her leave, but not without whispering the nickname he'd given her, and rubbing soothing circles down her spine.

She'd told her professors goodbye, and none of them had garnered a reaction from her, hardly, until she rose to hand Professor Snape her exam.

"Miss Granger," he called softly. Snape stopped her before she had a chance to shoulder her bag. "A word if you don't mind?" He guided her into his office, motioning to the seat across from his desk.

Hermione settled into the uncomfortable chair, laying her backpack at her feet as she pulled her sleeves down her arms. "Professor Snape?"

He rummaged around in his desk before answering her. "I have something for you. Of course, I'd imagined I would be giving it to you at the end of the year, but that's unfortunately not the case." Professor Snape extended his hand, placing a large manilla envelope in her grip. "If you don't mind, I'd like to see you open it."

She frowned, taking the parcel and turning it over in her hands. The insignia of Oxford was stamped on the front, and her name as well. Hermione found the envelope intimidating if she was honest, but she carefully opened it. Taking caution not to rip it, she glanced inside. Pulling the heavy sheet of paper from inside, Hermione discovered a letter written on a letterhead detailed by Severus Snape.

Hermione looked up at him, her brows drawing together in confusion. "Professor?"

He shook his head, waving his hand. "Don't dally with questions, Miss Granger. They're a terrible waste of time when the answer is quite literally in your hands." Snape rebuffed her with his usual scowl.

She sighed. Scanning the letter, her mouth dried. " _Oh,_ " Hermione whispered, tucking the envelope between her legs as her hand rose to her mouth. "This is… thank you, Professor."

It was the closest to a smile that she thought he'd ever given her. "No need for thanks, at least for that. You've worked diligently in my class. It's a pity to only have you for such a short amount of time. I'm quite confident that you will advance well in whatever career you pursue."

Hermione wiped her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. "Well, I'm sure this shining letter of recommendation will do wonders for that. Thank you, Professor Snape." She rose from her seat only to sink back into it after he raised a hand. "What?"

He nodded to the envelope. "Consider it a gift for a job well done. If you return, you'll get another, of course. I'd appreciate if you kept that one a secret however. Dumbledore might work himself into a tizzy that I nicked it."

She turned the envelope over, a small enamel pin falling into her lap. She lifted it, her eyes widening as she realised it was an Oxford alumni pin in her hand. A smile curved her lips. "You're not as bad as they say, Professor Snape."

He snorted, drumming his fingers against the calendar that spanned the top of his desk. "Well, be sure you don't tell them that."

* * *

Hermione ate lunch with Draco, and she waited until he was chewing so he was less likely to interrupt her. She took a deep breath, folding her hands in her lap, and he gave her a sharp look, as if he knew he wouldn't like what she had to say.

Hermione blurted out, "I want to talk to Theo before we leave."

Draco choked on his club sandwich, smacking himself in the chest as he swallowed. "You planned to tell me when I was chewing?"

She winced. "I was worried you wouldn't let me get a word in otherwise."

He tossed his napkin onto the table. "I'm not so unreasonable that I wouldn't let you talk about it. I'm willing to discuss it, not that you really need my permission for anything you do. I wouldn't presume to think you did, either."

Well, it was good to know that he knew that, but if this was a relationship, she still wanted to respect his wants. Even if she'd probably do it anyway.

"He was one of my first friends here," Hermione began quietly, picking up a chip from her plate. "I know that in all likelihood, I'll be coming back to England, and I'll probably see him then. It's just that I've said goodbye to everyone else, even Professor Snape, and I wouldn't feel right if I didn't try to smooth things over with Theo."

He chewed, albeit a bit angrily, as he took in her words. "Are you asking my opinion? Because I'm not going to offer it if you're not."

Hermione nodded. "You're my boyfriend. I know it would probably make you uncomfortable."

"That's an understatement," he muttered. "I think you should." After she fell silent, he said, "Don't look at me like that."

"You're against it. That much is obvious," Hermione replied, the heel of her shoe knocking against his. "So I'm confused as to why you say I should go ahead."

He shrugged. "For one, I know that you'll probably resent me for it eventually if I told you I wouldn't accept it. For two, and this is the important one, he's my best mate. He has been for years, and we've spent the last few years being shite blokes, and eventually I'm going to have to grovel in the hopes that he'll do the same so we can patch this up." Draco popped a chip into his mouth. "Close your mouth. It's unbecoming of a lady."

She instantly snapped, "I don't want to be a lady."

He arched an eyebrow. "That was a quick response. Have you said that many times in your life?"

"Living in the Bible Belt? You bet your arse I did." Hermione laughed. "So, Theo? Should you talk to him first then?"

"Oh, fuck no. He might break my nose if I'm honest, and I'm inclined to let him have the one hit. No, you should definitely talk to him first. He's not angry with you."

"You didn't see—"

"Sure, his pride is pretty battered right now. Like I said, he was, maybe still is, who knows, in love with you. You shot him down pretty well, a couple of times actually, but he's not angry with you. He'll forgive you."

If anything, she only felt worse. "I don't know what to say."

"You'll figure it out." Draco said, kicking her under the table. "You're always pulling some whimsical shit out of the air. Anyway, have you finished packing?"

"Your mother packed for me," Hermione muttered, and his attempt to chance the subject failed. "Do you want to be there when I talk to him? I would understand if you did."

Neither of them mentioned the second time he'd kissed her, or how he'd attempted to turn her against Draco.

He sighed. "Not really. I think it's more of a private affair anyway. You don't need your boyfriend to hover over you."

She smiled at that. "Thanks."

* * *

Hermione knew that Theo was in the library because she had taken Pansy's phone. The fake text about needing notes had done wonders, and she only felt slightly guilty for lying, but she was certain he wouldn't have told her had he known who was really on the other end of the phone.

She hurried into the library, waving to Madam Pince as she made her back to their regular table.

Theo was seated there, hunched over the book with a pen tightly gripped in his hand. He appeared to be more stressed than he had ever seen him.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Hi, can you take a break?"

He moved so quickly that she would have laughed at any other time. "What are you doing here, Hermione?" he asked. His voice was thick with exhaustion, and she noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes. "I'm busy, so just… go."

She wasn't so easily deterred. "I'm flying back to America tonight," Hermione said, drawing his attention back to her. "And I would really like to talk to you in case I don't get another chance. If you don't mind?"

"I'm not sure if you'd heard," Hermione continued, "but my home was broken into, and they have no idea what's missing. I'm flying back early to catalogue it for local police. I sat for my exams this morning."

He shut his laptop, sliding it into his bag, and slinging it over his shoulder. "Okay."

They walked side by side in silence. Her converse squeaked against the tile as they made their way down the corridor. "I thought I would know what to say once I convinced you to talk to me, but I have no idea," Hermione muttered. She sat on the stone bench beneath an arched window as the sunlight filtered through it. "You must hate me."

Theo straddled the bench as she sat sideways, facing him, and crossing her legs. Running a hand through his dark hair, he looked away from her before saying a word. "I don't hate you. I don't think I could ever hate you. Though it would be easier."

She sucked in a breath. "You were one of my first friends, and I would love if one day, we could get back to that. If we never do, then I'll understand that it wasn't meant to work out that way. I still care about you. I still wanted to say goodbye."

"And what does your boyfriend think of that? Does he know you're here?" He sneered.

She wrote it off for what it was, pettiness, and a self defence mechanism. "Not that I need his permission to do anything, but yes he does, thank you. He agreed with me, and I think you should stop being such a dick about Draco."

He stared at her for a moment before laughing under his breath. "Alright. You wanted to say goodbye then."

She nodded. "I'm probably coming back for the next term, but I've said goodbye to everyone else already. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to  _everyone_."

"I'm sorry your house was broken into."

"Me too."

She was racking her brain for something,  _anything,_ to say next when Theo swallowed audibly. "I'm sorry for attempting to force you to have feelings for me. In hindsight, it was a terrible thing to do, and I cringe every time I think of it."

Not that she was going to admit it, but Hermione had the same reaction when it came to thinking of it. "It's okay. I forgive you. I think I may not have been clear from the start, and maybe that's partially my fault."

He shook his head. "No, I knew. I made the choice to ignore it and hope that I could change your mind. When that didn't happen, I was upset. I saw that you looked at Draco how I wanted you to look at me." He averted his gaze, shame evident on his face. "I've had some time to think about it. I should have apologised sooner, but I'm a coward."

"If you're a coward, then so am I, and so is Draco. We're all so bloody sorry for what's happened, the two of you probably more so than me, that we couldn't figure out where to start. I, for one, had to start in the middle and dig my way out of a massive amount of pride to even talk to you."

"Well," he remarked dryly, "you and Draco have been rather busy, I think. I was sorry to hear about Dolohov in Flourish and Blotts. I was in the Shrieking Shack when Draco found him."

She paused. "You were? He didn't tell me that."

He cursed under his breath. "Well, that's because I asked him not to. Given how angry you'd been when you left me that day, I didn't want to even be mentioned around you. Besides, I didn't help much anyway."

Hermione blinked. "How much did you  _help_  exactly?"

"I held Dolohov in place while Draco beat the shite out of him, and even though you're looking at me that way, I don't feel the least bit sorry for it," Theo said clearly. "He deserved what he got, and a lot worse than that. I'd do it again."

It was like a puzzle piece fitting into place, and there was something warm in her chest at the idea that he still cared at all. Even if it was done with such violent measures, which she would never agree with. Hermione's lower lip trembled. "Neither of you should have fought him. Isn't two against one unfair?"

"For the record, I know about all of the men that were with him in that shop with you, and that's unfair," he spat the word. "No, it wasn't two against one. Draco was fighting three of them before I was told by the bartender my best mate was in a brawl in the alley. I admit he had it under control, but who was I to walk away?"

"So, you just helped him?" Hermione asked. "I'm trying to understand how the two of you can act as if you hate eachother so much, but then you're just… you're there."

He took a long look at her. "Have you ever had a best friend, Hermione?"

"Not before Pansy, no. I was never good at making friends in school."

"Hypothetically, let's say the two of you had a row to rival the end all rows. If she was in danger, would you drop everything to get there?"

It clicked, and she nodded.

"It was made rather clear to me how much he cared about you then. He offered to bring me back with him, to hand over the paper, and claim responsibility for it." Theo shook his head then. "I couldn't do that. I'm glad to have your forgiveness, even if I didn't earn it."

She could have mentioned how she got to decide when her forgiveness was given, whether earned or not, but she thought it would be overkill to the conversation at that point. So she sat in the relative silence while telling Theo interesting facts to pass the hour.

* * *

Hermione slammed into Draco as soon as she came through the door of his bedroom. He was still packing, appearing just as scattered as his belongings. "Hey, have you seen that blue shirt? You wore it to bed last night and—fuck!"

She tackled him onto the bed. "You put on such a front about being an arsehole with a motorcyle, but you're just a big softie!" she yelled.

"Okay," he wheezed. Draco was wedged between her hips, a nice place to be for him normally, she knew, and the pointy edge of a suitcase. "Why are you hitting me?" he yelped.

"Because," she hissed, leaning over him, "you never told me that Theo was there with you at the Shrieking Shack, or that you offered him those letters for him to get back into my good graces." Hermione tapped him on the nose.

He looked around the room. "Am I in trouble for that?"

She groaned. "No, but I wish you'd tell me. After hearing that, all I really want to do is snog you senseless."

He smirked, shoving the suitcase from the bed, its contents spilling across the floor, before he grabbed her hips.

* * *

She'd forgotten how much she didn't like Oklahoma weather, no matter the month. But April was constant rain, and her small town typically flooded somewhat. She was happy to see a familiar face in the crowd, but slightly less happy to see that Jonathan's son was also at his side.

Jonathan whistled and waved, flagging her down as she pulled her suitcase behind her. Her carryon was over her shoulder, and poor Draco was… Well, he was a bit of a pack mule for this bit of the journey.

"It's good to see you, 'Mione! It's been a long time hasn't it?" John yelled, his voice booming, and not a soul missed it in the crowded terminal. He wrapped an arm around her, sliding her carry on from her shoulder in the same movement.

"It's good to see you." Hermione grinned.

"You do have an accent," Oliver murmured, taking her other suitcase from her. "You look good."

Hermione managed an awkward laugh. "Thank you. I feel good. Let me help you with that since they were so kind to help." She reached up to take the suitcase from Draco's shoulder, but he shook his head. "Let me help."

"I've got it," Draco rasped. His glare was heavy on the young man in front of them. "Pleased to meet the two of you."

Oliver blinked. "Who the hell are  _you_?"

His father balked and smacked the back of his head. "I didn't raise you to be so rude to strangers, especially friends of friends."

Draco smirked. He extended a hand, still holding their luggage, which he made a slight show of. "Draco Malfoy, boyfriend. And you are?"

Oliver's enthusiasm died and he gave Draco a lackluster handshake.

* * *

Nothing had changed, not even the potholes in the roads that desperately needed to be filled, not the stoplights on the main street that were still too quick to turn red from yellow. Jonathan had been kind enough to take her to her house, where she didn't recognise the truck sitting in the driveway, until it struck her suddenly.

"You asked me to sell your car, and well, I did," he said with a weak smile. He handed over a set of keys, nodding to the truck. "You'll have to drive mine for the time being."

Hermione shook her head. "This one is much older, less likely to be damaged. Shouldn't I drive this one rather than the newer one?"

The man shook his head. "No, it's a standard, and if I remember right, you're probably still not very good at it."

Draco called from the backseat, seated beside Oliver, "She's not. The lesson didn't go all too well."

She caught him winking at her from the rear view mirror, and her cheeks coloured, just a bit. It had gone very well, as she remembered. Hermione took the keys. "Thank you. I'll drive carefully," she promised.

Jonathan waved her off. "Not to worry. Don't be a stranger while you're here. We would love to have you for dinner one of these nights. Maybe you'll attend a service? Everyone has missed you on the piano."

Anyone who had watched her grow up knew that Hermione was not particularly religious. Still, she thought that her mother would have liked for her to attend one last one service, and she nodded. "I'll let you know."

She opened the door, hopping out of the truck. Draco quickly followed, and they pulled their luggage from the bed of the truck. He was eyeing the vehicle in the driveway, his eyes riddled with apprehension.

"Are you sure you can drive that thing?"

She snorted. "Give me some credit. I know how to drive, and the only issue I'll have is parking. The thing is so bloody massive that I can't tell how close I am." She pulled her bags inside after carefully stacking one on top of the other. She set the house keys on the kitchen island as she took in the room.

She'd like to say that everything was as she'd left it, but it wasn't. Not even close. The two lamps on either end of the couch were still overturned, the glass shattered across the floor. End tables were overturned, just as well as her father's recliner in the corner.

A hiccup escaped her.

Draco stepped close behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "We're alone now. You can let go. I'm here."

It wasn't only the pain of seeing her home, a home that her parents had worked incredibly hard to build, torn apart. It was the fact that she could clearly see her mother laying on the couch, watching a trashy reality TV show that she knew to be fake in her last days, on the couch that had been cut up with a knife. It was that she knew her father had sat in that leather recliner for  _years_  before he died.

It was knowing he'd rocked her to sleep there, that it had magically become her chair after he was killed, but somehow it was still  _his._ Hermione sobbed as her legs gave out from beneath her, and Draco sunk to the tile floor of her kitchen with her.

The walls were thankfully bare since she'd put all of their photographs in storage. "She died here," Hermione whispered.

His biceps flexed as he pulled her closer. "I'm so sorry."

"Someone came into the home that my mother lived and died in, and they tore it apart." She gulped in a huge breath, her shoulders trembling. "I didn't expect it to hurt so much."

"You never do," he whispered. "They'll find who did this."

Hermione slumped against him. "I hope so. God help them if I find them first."

He nuzzled her neck. "Come here."

She turned into him, sliding her hands up his chest and her arms around his neck. "Just hold me for a while? Just until I calm down?"

Draco tucked her against his much larger body, settling his chin on top of her head. "For as long as you want."

She snorted, wiping her eyes. "Could be a long time."

"That's okay."

* * *

The first night was the hardest.

They slept in her bedroom, which had been left mostly untouched. She found that her old desktop computer was missing, as was her jewelry box. She doubted she would ever see it, or the contents ever again. Draco had pulled covers from the corridor closet, and he'd pulled her against him as the slept. She'd fallen asleep to him drawing on her skin.

In the morning, she found the living room, the kitchen, and every other room clear of debris. Draco was sitting on the couch, a water bottle in hand as he flicked through channels on basic cable. "Did John have the electricity turned back on when he knew you were coming back? Not that it's important. I'm just curious."

She nodded, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "What happened to all of the mess?"

He clicked his tongue. "I woke up at four this morning. I thought about lying to you and saying it was due to jet lag, but it wasn't. I set my alarm. You sleep like a rock, by the way."

Hermione plopped onto the couch, staring at him. "I would have helped you clean the house, Draco. Afterall, it's my house."

He settled on a talk show that he clearly had no interest in. "You shouldn't have to clean the house. You didn't trash it."

"Neither did you."

"Well, I'd bloody well hope not," he muttered. "Occasionally, I do nice things for my girlfriend. As another testament to what a lovely boyfriend I am, we're ordering pizza for lunch. It's the only establishment to deliver in this tiny town."

Hermione laughed, turning the television off and climbing into his lap. "You have no idea how happy that statement makes me. Fuck, I missed pizza."

"We have pizza," he snorted.

"Well, yes, but I haven't eaten it since before I left here."

His fingers skimmed her sides. "You do realise I like to wear this shirt, don't you? And I can't, because you're always wearing it to bed."

She shrugged. "You could always take it back."

Draco took one look at her and shook his head. "Not going to happen. Not while you're so upset, and yes, I know you are even now."

He was right, as he had the annoying tendency to be. She didn't want to associate the current memories swirling around her head right now with new ones.

He asked, "About the pizza," as his stomach growled.

Hermione laughed. "Let me get dressed."

* * *

Getting dressed consisted of pulling a pair of denim shorts from her closet, and tugging them up her legs. She slipped her converse on, hitching Draco's shirt up so she could tie it in the back with a hair tie. As she jogged down the stairs, Hermione had tied her hair up as well.

They ordered pizza, and Draco only complained about her driving a handful of times. Of course, a handful of times spanned the entire fifteen minute trip. The two of them had ended up eating while driving around, commenting on the lack of sights to see.

"That's where I broke my leg," Hermione said after swallowing, pointing towards a playground with the slice of pizza still in hand.

"Can you keep your hands on the wheel?" he grumbled. Draco reach across the console, snatching the soda from the cup holder and tipping it to his lips. "I like this."

She grinned. "Yeah?"

"Yeah—can you watch where you're going?" he yelped as another truck passed them.

For one, he clearly wasn't used to being on the opposite side of the road, a feeling she'd battled for weeks. For two, she didn't think he realised how much room they still had, even if the road seemed narrow. "You are such a baby. I can steer with my knees." Hermione took the bottle from his hand, stealing the last drink. "Alright, so up here on the right is this random stretch of forest. There's a nature trail down there that I believe I've gone down twice. Once was for a school trip."

"And the other?"

"I walked through it with a boyfriend. There's a ravine about halfway through. I fell in. It took Oliver forever to stop laughing and help me up."

Draco was staring at her from across the cab, his eyes narrowed. "You dated Oliver? The Oliver that I met at the airport?"

She smirked at the thinly veiled jealousy. "Yes, and yes. As you can see, it didn't work out."

He folded his arms across his chest. "He was staring at you in the airport terminal. Whose decision was it to end things?"

She shrugged. "I feel it's up for debate. I ended the relationship, but he may as well have when he decided to sleep with another girl, so take your pick."

"He cheated on  _you_?" Draco echoed.

Hermione waved off his question, pressing her foot to the brake. "On the left here, we have my high school. I did not enjoy my time there one bit."

She liked that he didn't ask why.

"It really is a small town," Draco observed, taking the last slice of pizza when she wasn't looking. "Were you bored as a child?"

Hermione brushed wind blown strands from her face, taking a wide turn onto the highway. "Probably, but I don't remember now. I went to the park every day with my dad when he was home. I visited thrift shops, and gardened with my mother. I was never good at making friends, so any other time I spent in the library. There was a book shop here that I would linger in. The owner took pity on me, handing me stacks of books to shelve. He was Dippet's son, but now that I think of it, I don't even remember his name. He would pay me in used paperbacks, and I was sad to hear he'd passed a few years ago."

Draco was smiling at her, and he reached across the cab to slide his fingers through hers. "Tell me more?"

"There's not a lot to tell. I was terrible with other children, and I liked adults more than anyone else. For the short amount of time that I dated Oliver in high school, there was a group I was always around, but none of them ever truly liked me. I was a bookworm, and I wasn't interested in anything but my studies by that point."

"I can't imagine anyone ever not wanting to know you," Draco said then. "All right, I admit I wasn't keen on the idea, but it wasn't because you were a bookworm. You were abrasive, reckless, and more than a little rude, but you were never dull."

She snorted. "Well, anyone I know here has a different opinion. Draco, I have a question, and it's important. This isn't the best time to ask you, as I know, but we're already near my university now," Hermione babbled, and she shrank under his gaze. "This is where you tell me I'm rambling, isn't it?"

He nodded.

"If you tell me that you've changed your mind, I won't be upset. I swear. Do you want me to come back?"

Draco froze for a moment, his fingers tapping against his leg to the intro of Halestorm on the radio. "Do I want you to come home with me?" he asked slowly.

Hermione's voice was a whisper. "Yes."

He pointed to the shoulder of the road. "Pull over, Granger." And as she did so, he laughed under his breath. "Do I want you to come home with me?" he echoed again. "Of course I want you to come home with me. Have I ever given the impression of anything else?"

Hermione slid the gear shift into park, scratching the back of her neck. "No. I just wanted to be sure, and if you're sure, then I'll have the paperwork started. I'd like to get as much done today as possible. I still need to catalogue everything missing, and visit the police to make a statement."

"You'd start the transfer paperwork today?"

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Yes, I would. If you're sure. Also, are you sure your parents wouldn't mind? They're already so accommodating, and I wouldn't want to overstay—"

"I want you to stay for the rest of my bloody life," Draco blurted out, leaning against the car in a swift movement and pressing his lips to hers. "That's what I want, what we all want."

* * *

While the transfer work was not a simple task for the woman who would perform the clerical work, it was easy for Hermione. But she was doing everything incredibly backwards, and she still needed to apply for citizenship to complete a move to England. Her travel visa would expire soon, and then she would have a problem.

Draco reassured her that Narcissa Malfoy was not one to be trifled with, and the moment she caught wind of their intentions, she'd find a friend of a friend to handle everything.

For Hermione, the beginning of her transfer paperwork was signing dozens of papers. Draco sat beside her as the blonde woman slammed a stack of papers down in front of her. "Sorry, Hermione. I don't mean to be so rushed, but it's absurdly heavy."

Hermione smiled, and picked up the pen, slanting the paper, and effectively closing a chapter of her life. She gave her goodbyes, choosing not to stick around for a drawn-out conversation about her mom.

As they walked down the corridor, her eyes taking in the familiar corridors that she had known, but seemed so alien to her now, someone slammed into her shoulder. "I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, pausing and regretting it immediately.

"Granger?" Adrian gawked, his mouth falling open as his eyes darted to the man behind her. "You're back?"

She nodded. "For awhile. I'll be leaving again at the end of the summer, hopefully."

Adrian's eyebrows drew together. "Are you that guy who video chatted me from Granger's phone? Yeah, you are! You—"

Hermione shook her head, holding a hand up as Draco stiffened behind her. "Don't. It's not worth the effort. I'd say it was nice to see you, but it wasn't. Have a good day." Turning on her heel, she dragged Draco out of the building.

* * *

She had several things to do. She needed to visit the police station, and sort out this mess in the hopes that it would be quickly solved. She needed to learn exactly what applying for citizenship entailed, as she had never looked since she'd never expected the dramatic twist her life had taken.

But they started with setting up her laptop on the coffee table in the living room. Hermione had just gotten comfortable, crossing her legs as she sat on the couch with the call connected.

"Hi!" Hermione gushed, leaning forward as Narcissa and Lucius came into view.

"Hermione!" Narcissa shrieked. "Oh, love, how are you? How was your first week back? Tell me all about it!"

Lucius reigned his wife in. "I'm sure Hermione would tell you anything you'd like to know if you gave her the chance to talk."

Hermione smiled. "It's been strange. Everyone I know has told me I have an accent now."

"It's only going to grow pronounced when you move to England," Draco said smoothly, inserting himself into the conversation.

At first, Narcissa didn't notice it at all.

Lucius tilted his head. "What did you just say?"

His wife smacked him hard on the chest, shrieking an her hand rising to cover her mouth. "You are? You truly are?"

For fear her voice would crack, Hermione only nodded. She was quite certain that she had never hear the sound that had just come out of Narcissa's mouth. Hermione looked to Draco. "Is she happy?"

Draco held up his hands. "God, I have no idea. I've never heard her make that sound before."

Lucius snorted, the sound distorted by her laptop. "I've heard her made that sound once before, and I assure you, she was very happy."

The man at her side, still holding her hand, gagged.

Hermione giggled, staring at the screen.

Yes, she needed to do a lot of things before she returned.

But the first thing at the top of the list was to visit her parents, and work her way up to a goodbye.

* * *

Days turned into weeks. It was always something, and she continued to avoid driving to the cemetery. First it was surveying the house, opening every drawer and cupboard, all while penning a list of missing items. She'd dropped the first list off at the police station only to realise a few days later that more items were indeed missing.

She spent a lot of her time on video chat with Pansy, mostly spent cursing the time difference between them. Sometimes she called Narcissa, just to hear about the comings and goings of Malfoy Manor. And sometimes, she found herself sitting in the floor, staring at a wall.

Hermione had lost count of how many days had come and gone, though a quick glance at the date would tell her. So really, she didn't know how many days she'd spent in the company of Draco, still happy, but her depression lurking right below the surface until Draco walked in the door at midnight.

He held takeaway in his hands from a twenty four hour diner up the road. She blinked. "I would have driven you," Hermione said staring at him as he came to sit on the other side of the table. "I was worried when I woke up and you were gone."

"I left you a note," Draco replied. He unpacked the food, passing her the container that held her omelette. "The old lady who works overnights still remembers your order. She also knew that I was your boyfriend before I spoke a full sentence."

Hermione smiled. "It's a small town," she murmured. She took the plastic cutlery from his hands, popping the plastic top off. "She probably knew by the heavy British accent. As you can imagine, it's not heard too often around here."

He nodded. "Your order is ridiculously complex. I don't see why you order one thing, and then completely change it. Surely they have a build your own omelette option."

She shrugged. "I've always ordered it like this. What's the occasion?"

"You're sad. I like to make you happy. Barbara told me that an omelette was a good place to start," Draco replied, his tone hushed. They were sitting beneath the light of the lamp she'd switched on, and neither of their faces were well lit. "I haven't pushed you, but you're beginning to worry me."

She rolled her eyes, lifting the soda to her mouth. "I'm fine, Draco. You're reading too much into things. I've been happy everyday with you."

He chewed his food silently, fixing her with a glare as he swallowed hard. "I didn't say you were unhappy because of  _me._ " His tone left little room for denial, not that she was going to try anyway. "You know, relationships are a shite load of work from what I understand. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong, or what's bothering you, and believe me, Granger. I want to help."

Hermione laid her fork down. "As you've noticed, I'm kind of a shite girlfriend."

Draco grumbled. "And I was a shitty person. It's fine. All I'm asking is for you to be honest with me, and not stomp it down. I don't think that's so much to ask for."

"It's not." Hermione pushed her food around the plate with her fork as she picked it back up. "I know that I need to visit my parents' graves, and I'm not sure I have the strength to do that at all."

He heaved a heavy sigh. "Why?"

"I'm leaving, and there's this twisting in my gut that tells me that I'm leaving  _them_  everytime I think about it. Try as I might, there is no stomping it down." Hermione was quiet then, drawing a shuddering breath. "I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm scared they would be disappointed in me, or maybe I… I don't know."

Draco pushed away from the table, standing and coming to her side. Sinking to her level and leaning against the couch behind them, he looked to her. "You're an idiot."

Hermione laughed then, and she couldn't stop. Especially not when he grinned at her as he did, and her heart flipped in her chest. "Why?"

"Just for locking it all in." Draco rested his elbow on the table. "I'm all in, Princess. I have been for a while. We'll go together, if you like?"

She nodded, her heart stuck in her throat. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," he agreed, and he brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

* * *

Hermione had asked for him to wait in the truck.

She stood before two marble headstones, side by side, with tears forming in her eyes and a bundle of wild sunflowers clutched in her hand. She wished instantly that Draco was behind her, guiding her with a steady hand, and reassuring her in a low voice, but she could do it.

She'd buried them.

She could talk to them.

Hermione placed the sunflowers in the vase on her mother's headstone. She sat cross legged between the burial plots, and let her head fall into her hands. Not so silent sobs wracked her body, and she trembled before the two names that had come together thirty years earlier.

"I went to England," she whispered, her voice feather light. "I went to England like you told me to, and I don't know what to say to you now that you're gone. But I know that I would want to tell you what I crossed off this list." Even though she knew each bullet point by heart now, she still pulled it from her back pocket. "I rode the London Eye with a friend named Theo. He took me to London on my birthday.

"I got a tattoo. Draco, he's my boyfriend now, took me. He had said some terrible things to me and he apologised to me this way. I rode a motorcycle. It was also Draco's. I went on a roadtrip through the English countryside with Pansy, Luna, and Ginny. It was one of the best weekends of my life. I went ice skating with all of my friends, and I wish I could show you both the pictures.

"I've been kissed in the rain. I've changed someone's life, though I hope to change several more. Draco wrote me a love letter that may make my knees weak for the rest of my life. I'm about to mark off number eighteen, which is to leave this tiny town, and I don't know how I feel about it, but I know that you would remind me home is where you make it. I hope to mark off number six, skydiving, in June. I think I'd like to mark off number sixteen after that, which was yours, to name a star."

Hermione swallowed, tears dropping onto the crinkled paper that had been halfway around the world and back. "I went to Abbey Road," she whispered. "Pansy, Harry, Draco and I recreated the photo. I left it for you, even though I know it will blow away, and maybe you'll never get to see how happy I was. And I think this is my favorite one to mark off, even though I haven't done it yet. I'm doing it here because I'm grossly whimsical, and the thought that you know just what's happened in my life is too much to pass up." She tapped her fingers against the paper. "I fell in love with a man named Draco. I think you both would have liked him.

"I think Dad would have liked him a lot less considering the rampaging prick that he started out as, but I love him. So much that it scares the hell out of me. But that's… that's not what I want to tell you the most. When I boarded the train, I discovered a letter from Mum." She laughed lightly. "I have an accent now is what everyone tells me. And I reread the one from—" her voice cracked "—you, Dad."

Hermione didn't bother to wipe the tears away, knowing that it was of little use. "You told me that I was going to be great. I never believed you, no matter how many times you told me, but you're right. I did great. I wish I could show you my pin from Oxford, or my glowing recommendation letter, but I can't. Mum, you told me that I was your greatest accomplishment. I should have told you everyday, but my greatest accomplishment was to have you as my parents and to have been your daughter."

* * *

It happened quietly, not at all how she had expected it to. Hermione had drawn a lazy line, distorted by tears through  _fall in love._ She had not considered when she was going to say those three little words outloud to the man in question yet, not really. She assumed it would happen when it should, and she would know when to say it.

She was not prepared for fate to intervene.

Hermione was stretching up into the cupboards, pulling a box of cereal down and muttering under her breath. "He should know that not everyone is so bloody tall."

"Hermione?"

In hindsight, she ought to have known that her first name was only used on special occasions. Still, she didn't turn around. "What is it?"

"Turn around."

She huffed, having almost been able to grab the cereal. "What is it?" Her line of sight fell on him, and the bucket list in his grip.

He was staring at the bottom of it and she  _knew_. "Hermione?"

"I was going to tell you," she whispered. She could hear the blood rushing between her ears, and her heartbeat in her chest. "I just didn't know how."

His grey eyes were wide as his lips parted, and he stared at her. "Can I hear you say it now, then?" Draco asked, and it was so low that she could have missed it.

Hermione leaned against the counter, her hands tightly gripping the edge. "I love you."

Draco took two long strides forward, caging her against the counter and his body. "Again?" he murmured, as if he didn't quite believe it.

She cleared her throat. "I love you. I've loved you since that day we were in that classroom after Theo—"

"That's so long ago," Draco said. He twisted a curl around his finger. "I don't understand. Did you not want to tell me?"

Red bloomed in her cheeks. "I was afraid that perhaps you didn't feel the same, and I didn't want to frighten you before we'd ever truly given things a chance. I was worried it was too soon and—"

He held a finger to her lips. "I love you," he blurted out, as if he's been waiting forever to say it. By the swift widening of his eyes, he seemed to realise that it's out there and he can't take it back. "I've probably been in love with you since we went to London to Abbey Road, or maybe it was waking up to you in my bed the next morning after coming home from the hospital. I don't know, but I know that I am so bloody in love with you that I think I would have moved here if you hadn't agreed to come home with me."

Her lips parted. "I love you," Hermione repeated, her voice much steadier this time.

Words seemed to be lost after that.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the new update. Only one chapter and a short epilogue left. Please let me know what you think!


	24. This is Full Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a short epilogue that will be released in a few days. It's written and edited; I just want to give a few more days before I post the very last part. Thank you for your patience while I wrote this story, for everything really. Thank you for giving me the most reviews on any story out of my time writing on the website. I'm unbelievably grateful.
> 
> Thank you to CourtingInsanity for going on the journey that was this story with me. She's a brilliant alpha-beta, and an even better friend. If you ever have the chance to work with her, I advise you to leap at that opportunity. I wouldn't have wanted to write this story without her.

 

* * *

September was hot even by Oklahoma standards; it was a state in which you never knew what weather you would have. It was a lesson that Draco had learned over the last five months.

Leaving wasn't so hard the second time, not when he was with her, his hand twined in hers, reassuring and warm.

"Are you  _sure_  you have that?" Draco asked for the sixth time, motioning to her luggage.

She knew. She had counted. "Yes," Hermione drawled. She was carrying her handbag, another bag slung over her shoulder, and she dragged a suitcase behind her. "You should worry about yourself. For some reason, you elected to carry everything in one go without help."

Her boyfriend rolled his eyes at her, grimacing as one of the heavy suitcases slammed against his heels. "You know you can't trust the airport help."

"Well, you could. You know, if you hadn't been so rude to the man. He offered to help  _me._ " Hermione replied. The airport was buzzing around them, the flows of traffic pushing against one another as they hurried towards the check in. "Draco, really, I can take a few bags. It wouldn't be hard to stack them on top of my suitcase."

Draco shook his head quickly. "It's fine. I've got it."

After leaving their bags to be loaded onto the plane, Draco and Hermione sat in the lobby. His hand found hers, threading his fingers through hers, just as he had several times over the last five months. "How are you feeling?"

They had visited the cemetery one last time after loading all of their belongings into the rental car. Months ago, when she had realised just how long their stay was going to be, she hadn't felt right in keeping John's vehicle for such an extended amount of time.

Hermione's shoulders fell. "I'm better than I was, certainly."

"We can visit,"

She smiled to herself. "Maybe on a holiday, but I don't imagine I'll want to travel across the Atlantic to speak with headstones." Hermione took a short breath. "Wow, that sounds terrible, doesn't it? What I should have said was that they would tell me I could talk to them anywhere. I just worry that no one will tend to their graves."

Draco tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm sure John would be happy to stay in touch, and he would tend to the site."

"Yeah," she murmured, her voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the airport. "That would be nice."

They sat there for a while, just waiting for their flight, but their hands didn't separate.

* * *

They had spent five months in Oklahoma, which was longer than she had expected. A day had not gone by where she hadn't chatted with Pansy via video call. She'd spoken to Ginny and Luna alongside Pansy in a group chat that blew up her phone at all hours of the night. Hermione and Draco would be sure to Skype Narcissa and Lucius as often as they could, but Lucius was gone often due to work.

She had also been in close contact with Harry as he shopped for an engagement ring. Hermione was unable to be there in person-though she had considered flying back early-but she helped him choose the correct one for Pansy. They had planned it, down to the smallest of details, and she had worked her flight around it. Even though Hermione had to admit the last time she had planned anything, everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong.

Of course, she didn't tell Harry that when he was already shaking with nerves.

It turned out to be a few high schoolers that had broken into her home, and it only took a month for the police to make an arrest. Luckily, Hermione was able to claim most of the belongings; the jewelry that had been taken from a local pawn shop in town.

She'd sold the house last, and putting it on the market at had taken three months. Draco stayed with her, running a comforting hand down her spine, but he had never offered his opinion without being asked. Hermione thought it was an interesting character development on his part, but she didn't voice that.

July and August had been spent cleaning the house from top to bottom, and packing everything she wouldn't sell. On Saturday, they had pulled everything outside, with some help from Oliver and his father, for a garage sale. There was so much she would never use, but Hermione kept the set of her mother's favorite china and the sentimental items.

When she'd mentioned selling the leather recliner in the corner, Draco had stopped her. He'd shaken his head, and told her that they would have it sent to England.

Tears had pooled in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

She'd followed through on her promise and attended a Sunday at the church she'd grown up in. Hermione had sat at the piano and sang with the choir, a placated smile on her face. She'd mingled with the congregation after, smiling each time someone told her she had an accent, though she thought it was waning by now.

And then she'd sold the house. On a morning in mid August, she had sat down beside a nice middle aged couple, and signed the final papers. Hermione was sad to see it go, and happy in the same breath. Really, it was the last thing to do.

Hermione visited her parents one last time, detailing what else they had crossed off the list that summer. There was number two, which was to throw a dart at a map and travel to wherever it was. She hadn't imagined doing that one stateside, but she laughed as she told the story of them getting lost in the middle of Nebraska.

Maybe there hadn't been much to do where they had ended up, and perhaps Draco  _had_  gotten a bit testy when all of their electronics died, and they had lost their chargers. But Hermione had bought them dinner as they sat in a pasture that was certainly trespassing.

Lucius called her as soon as the payment on her credit card had gone through. "Hermione?" He sounded amused and tired, all at once. "I just received an astronomical payment on your credit card."

She was grinning as she shoveled cereal into her mouth. "I told you I would pay you back, didn't I? I sold my mum's house this morning, so I think we'll be back in a week or two now."

He laughed. "Narcissa will be delighted."

The extended trip with Draco had been wonderful, but really, she just wanted to go home.

* * *

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Hermione asked as they stepped off the plane. A smile curved her lips as she reached down, slipping her much smaller hand into his. "It feels like we're coming full circle."

Draco smirked, squeezing her hand. "This isn't coming full circle, not yet. How could I forget?"

"You broke my laptop."

"You were infuriating from the get go," he replied. As they stepped into the large airport from the corridor leading from the plane, Draco turned to her. "Pansy was waiting for you. She's waddling this way now."

Hermione pushed her carryon into Draco's chest, turning quickly on her heel and rushing to her friend. The hug was awkward at best, considering Pansy was now heavily pregnant. Pansy threw her arms around Hermione's neck. "Don't ever leave for that long again."

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes as she pulled back to get a better look. Upon seeing Pansy's tear streaked face, she murmured, "Definitely not."

* * *

Narcissa was on her before she'd even reached the porch, sprinting across the drive and launching herself into Hermione and Draco. "I'm so happy you're home!" Tightening her arms around either one of them, Narcissa trembled. "Do you have any idea how absolutely boring it is without you here?"

Hermione grinned, peeking over the woman's shoulder to see Lucius making his way down the steps. "Let me." Hermione wiggled free of Narcissa's grip before she ran straight for Lucius.

Surprise was etched into his face as he dropped his glass just in time to be able to catch her. Strong arms circled Hermione's waist as she hugged him, and he spun her around. "It's good to have you back," Lucius murmured, smoothing her hair down.

Hermione burst into tears finally.

* * *

After the teary hellos, and the 'please, never leave agains', assimilating back into her life was fairly easy. She'd taken the time immediately to re-enroll herself into Oxford formally, this time for the rest of her educational career.

Draco took her to dinner afterward, but this had not been what she'd been expecting. Seated at the table he led her to was Theo, who grinned at the sight of her. Hermione turned to Draco. "What—?"

He shook his head. "You've gotten to see every single friend you have but Theo, love."

Theo cleared his throat, sliding out of the booth. "Which is my fault, but I wasn't sure either of you would appreciate me popping up."

Hermione looked between the two of them. "Have you sorted everything out then? You've smoothed everything over?" She arched an eyebrow.

Draco snorted. "Well, I definitely would go as far to say that, but Theo isn't..." He paused, looking to Theo with wide eyes.

Theo rolled his eyes. "What Draco is trying, and failing, to say is that I'm not in love with you."

She fell silent before laughing to herself. "I never thought I would be so relieved to hear those words said to me, you know that?"

He chuckled, pulling her into a tight hug. "To be fair, I'm certain I was only projecting the feelings of what I wanted to happen. You're a delight to be around, Hermione, but I don't think I was ever truly in love with you."

She held a hand to her heart. "Careful, Theo, or you might hurt my pride. What's her name?"

"What?" Draco asked. He slid into the booth, resting his arm on the back of the booth.

Hermione sat across from Theo, ignoring Draco's question as she smiled knowingly. "You look guilty just talking about have previous feelings toward me. You've met someone, haven't you?"

A very slight blush rose to Theo's cheeks. "How'd you know?"

"Might be the wicked love bite on your neck, mate," Draco said dryly. "Who is she?"

"You're going to think I've gone mad."

"That's a ringing endorsement if I've ever had one," Draco muttered.

"Daphne Greengrass," Theo mumbled, his voice barely heard over the dull roar of the restaurant.

Draco's mouth fell open. "You're shitting me, aren't you?"

Hermione recognised the last name, not so much the first name. "She's related to Astoria?" she asked.

If Draco had been drinking anything, she was sure it would have come out his nose. "They're not just related. Daphne is Astoria's older sister. She's a hell of a lot better, too."

Theo agreed. "She moved out a few years ago, do you remember? Caused a huge scandal with her family. Tori was always harping on her for it." At Draco's nod, he continued. "Apparently, she'd had enough of them trying to set her up for marriage, and she left. Denounced her inheritance too."

"You're sure she's better than Astoria?" Hermione asked.

They both nodded. "You'll like her," Theo said. "She can't wait to meet you, actually."

Hermione's thoughts swirled at that. The history between Theo and herself was still a bit awkward, at least she thought so, and she wasn't convinced that any girlfriend he had would like her. "If you say so," Hermione said.

Draco wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Our waitress is coming this way," he whispered in her ear. "Remember the bet?"

"What bet?" Theo asked.

She glared at Draco. "While we were gone, we made a bet as to whether I would like something he chose for me on a menu. I said I wouldn't, and Draco said he knew me better than that. Since I lost the bet, I have to let him pick my food ten times."

Theo appeared to be incredulous. "What number is this?"

She grumbled. "Six."

* * *

**Since Pansy was already suspicious of Harry, and the fact that he apparently clammed up anytime she went near a certain sock drawer, they settled on using Hermione's birthday as an excuse to have a party. Even though it was two weeks early, Pansy was due any day now.**

The black haired woman didn't think about it twice after Hermione said she didn't want her birthday to distract from James' birth.

"Draco!" Hermione panted, her nails biting into the skin of his forearms. "Everyone is waiting for us downstairs. We  _cannot_  just stay up here for a quick shag." Though his tongue sliding over her sensitive nipples did have her thinking differently. "Draco!" Hermione whined, her back arching against the mirror that sat atop his dresser.

"It's your birthday and you can do what you want to," he murmured against her skin with a smirk.

She huffed. "The saying is 'it's your birthday and you can cry if you want to.'"

He peeked up at her, one brow arched. "Do you want to cry?"

"Not particularly."

His hand dipped below the hem of her dress, his fingers sliding into her knickers. "Shh, someone might hear you," Draco whispered as he dropped to his knees. "You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Hermione couldn't catch her breath with him looking at her as he was. She didn't even believe she could give him a steady reply.

"Or maybe you would," he murmured, his fingers curling inside of her. "Maybe you'd like for everyone to know just who's making you cry out." His tongue slid against her clit, and her legs tensed.

She whimpered, sinking her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. "Oh, fuck!" she hissed. "Draco!" Hermione's head fell backward, meeting the mirror with a quiet thud. "Right there—"

A harsh knock on the door had her pausing, but Draco didn't stop moving. His tongue still rolled against her clit as she called out, "Who is it?" Her voice was trembling, and there wasn't a chance that whoever was on the other side didn't realise what they were doing.

She just really hoped it wasn't Narcissa or Lucius.

"Can you hurry it up?" Harry snapped. "I understand that you two lovesick fools can't keep your hands to yourselves, but I'm about to melt into a pool of anxiety out here."

Hermione sniggered. "We'll be out in a few minutes."

"A few minutes?" Draco asked, his voice hushed as his fingers trailed up her inner thighs. "You give me so little credit, don't you?"

As the footsteps grew farther and farther from the room, Hermione slid off of the dresser. "I want you—" she reached for the zipper on his trousers "—right now."

He grinned wickedly as he turned her, bending her over the dresser and flipping her skirt up. "Fuck," he groaned, palming her arse. "I'll never get over this, having you," Draco rasped in her ear as he slid into her.

Hermione's head fell forward as she braced herself on the dresser, knocking bottles of cologne and frames from the top of it. His hand covered her mouth to muffle her moans as he slammed into her.

Draco's hand slid down her stomach, two fingers rubbing her clit as he followed through on his promise of only taking a few moments.

Still, she thought it was roughest sex they'd ever had, and she was rather certain she would be feeling it over the course of the day.

* * *

Hidden in a nook off of the main room were Lily and James Potter. It was feasible for the Parkinsons to attend, them being close family friends with the Malfoys.

They celebrated Hermione's upcoming birthday for twenty minutes, where she was treated to hearing all of the things she'd done to make an impact in their lives since arriving. It was a lovely moment, Hermione thought, as she sat at the head of the table, taking gifts as they were handed to her. She'd been gifted books, a necklace from Narcissa, and several other things that she couldn't begin to recount right now.

Draco handed her a large box, thought it was skinny and there seemed to be a book tucked inside of it. She didn't recognize the shop name, though she tried, as his lips skimmed the shell of her ear.

"Open it already," Ron groaned. "Must the two of you always be touching?"

Hermione laughed quietly to herself as she peeled the foil wrapping paper back. Inside the box there was a journal nestled into the tissue paper. Lifting it into her hands, and letting the box fall to the floor, Hermione traced the cover slowly. "It's lovely," she murmured, her eyes misty. "Thank you." It was a pretty gift, the cover being a royal blue, and the quote, 'Not all those who wander are lost' staring back at her in gold.

His hand was warm on her shoulder as she flipped it open, her breath catching loudly in her throat. There on the page, for her to see each and every time she opened it, Hermione found a copy of the letter from her mother, and the short note from her father.

She heard herself thank Draco again before closing it, and laying it on the table. Hermione wiped her eyes quickly, glancing to Harry. Upon finding that Pansy was distracted by Luna, she nodded.

Narcissa caught the motion, clapping her hands as she rose from the table. "If I could have everyone's attention," she called. "I've planned a game for all us here today. Pansy, come here, would you, dear?"

Pansy looked around, settling a hand over her stomach as she made her way toward Narcissa. "What am I doing?"

"Oh, nothing for now. I'll explain in a moment. Put this on first." Narcissa pulled a black blindfold from her pocket, moving around Pansy and dropping it over her eyes as she tied in in the back. "Now, Harry will be your partner."

A frown crossed Pansy's face. "I still don't understand. What sort of game is this?"

"Go!" Hermione hissed, urging Harry out of his seat.

On the side of the room, the Parkinsons ushered the Potters into the room. From where Hermione stood, she saw Lily Potter's eyes were filled with tears before anything had even happened.

Harry stood in front of Pansy, his hands shaking as he produced the small crimson box from his pocket. To be quite honest, the man looked as if he might pass out. "Pansy?" Harry cleared his throat. He rubbed his eyes, knocking his glasses out of place. "You know how much I love you. I try to tell you everyday."

Pansy grinned, her painted lips turning up. "Of course, but if you're about to play a cruel prank on me, just know that you'll be sleeping on the sofa for a week!"

Harry chuckled. "That might damage my back, love."

She huffed. "Do you have any idea how much  _my_  back hurts?"

"Well, you've never let me forget how much all of you hurts, but I'm thankful that we're in the situation." Harry's voice cracked. "And I'm thankful that you're the mother of my child."

Hermione imagined that Pansy's eyes had widened, though none of them could see it at all. Still, everyone noticed the way Pansy's shoulders tensed, and how her mouth fell open. "This isn't a party game, is it?" she whispered.

"I'm mucking all of this up." Harry groaned, sinking to one knee just as Pansy reached up to remove her blindfold.

Her reaction was instantaneous. Pansy's eyes filled with tears, an ugly sob wrenching free of her chest as she stared down at him. "Oh my God!"

Hermione leaned into Draco, gripping his arm tightly.

"I'm a man of many words," Harry began, "most of them being words that you don't find amusing. I love you, more than anything else I've ever known. I love seeing you wake up beside me everyday. I love coming home to you everyday. I've fallen in love with you all over again every day of this pregnancy." Harry took Pansy's hand, running a thumb across her knuckles as she began to cry. "I know that you told me to wait until after we had James because you were worried I would marry you only because it was the right thing to do."

Harry stared up at her, grinning ear to ear. "The truth is, I don't want to wait anymore. I feel like I've been waiting a lifetime for you already. Marry me?"

She couldn't get the words out for several seconds, but the room erupted into loud cheering when she nodded. "Yes!" Pansy cried, pulling him close and pressing her lips to his cheek.

* * *

Pansy's water broke at approximately 4:37 in the morning.

Hermione's phone rang, high and shrill, just above her head as she laid in a tangled mess of limbs with Draco. She groaned, reaching up and answering without so much as looking at the screen.

"Hello?" she asked groggily.

"Pansy just went into labor!" Harry shouted.

Hermione shot up in the bed, her hand flying to stop the bun on top of her head from falling. " _Now?_ I thought the doctor said she wouldn't go into labor for two weeks!" Draco stirred at her side, hooking an arm around her waist and attempting to pull her back into him. "Draco, you need to get up!"

"Well," came Pansy's snappy retort in the background, "the doctor was wrong because James is coming whether we get to the bloody hospital or not! Harry, where is the hospital bag?"

There was a stumbling reply. "I'm-oh, fuck, I don't know."

"What can you possibly mean that you don't know?" Pansy shrieked, her voice climbing higher and higher.

Hermione did not envy Harry at all right that moment. "So, we'll meet you at St Mungo's then?" Hermione asked.

Harry sighed heavily into the phone. "Please." There was a short pause, following by muffled speech as if Harry had covered the receiver with his hand. "She wants you in the room."

Hermione thought she might faint.

She dressed quickly, snatching her jeans from the bedroom floor. Hermione chucked a pair of joggers at Draco's head as he sat up, eying her carefully. "Make yourself as presentable as you can," Hermione said quickly, tugging a shirt over her head. "Pansy's water broke. She and Harry are heading to Mungo's right now."

After he was dressed, and she had found her other shoe, the two of them sprinted down the stairs. Draco plucked his keys from the rack as she hurried ahead, impatiently waiting while tapping her foot at the passenger side of the car.

"She wants me to be in the room while she delivers," Hermione breathed as Draco leaned across her to pull her seatbelt into place. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Offer kind words of support that she's likely to spit back at you." Draco chuckled. "She's like a viper."

Hermione grinned. "Never tell her that."

He agreed. "Maybe after her hormones are more reasonable?"

"Perhaps not even then," she said.

* * *

Being in the delivery room entailed holding onto Pansy's left hand while Harry took the right. It meant whispering that she was almost there, and to just push a bit harder, both of which Pansy didn't want to hear. Maybe Draco was right; she  _was_  oddly reminiscent to a viper.

Hermione had expected it to be mostly waiting because Pansy had been scheduled to be induced on the twenty-ninth.

It hadn't been the case.

On September eighteenth, a day off from Hermione's birthday they all joked, James Sirius Potter was born. It was funny to think of it, to learn that the Sirius to inspire the namesake was the same Sirius who Regulus had spoken of. It was a small world, indeed.

Watching Harry and Pansy hold James was surreal and breathtaking. Pansy cradled the baby boy to her chest, commenting that no wonder she'd had killer heartburn for the last nine months. The boy had a full head of hair just like his father.

Draco was seated in the hospital chair of the room after they opened the room to visitors. With no other seats available, Hermione had taken up a seat in his lap, never taking her eyes off of the new parents. "I've never seen anything like it." Hermione whispered to Draco.

Cheesily, he commented, "Neither have I," as he stared straight at her, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Don't get any ideas."

She snorted. "Definitely not."

The first time that James had been held by anyone other than his parents, it was after Pansy had fallen asleep. Harry smiled, walking toward her, and moving to settle the newborn into her arms.

"I couldn't!" Hermione gasped. "What if I drop him?"

Harry laughed quietly, casting a look over his shoulder toward his fiance. "Well, then you would be a terrible Godmother, but you won't drop him."

Still slightly nervous, though it was truly irrational, Hermione made Draco give up his seat. She held her arms open, allowing Harry to lay James in her arms. Instinctively, she held James as Pansy had. Strands of hair fell into her eyes as she looked down.

"It's nice to meet you," Hermione cooed, lifting a hand and sliding her index finger into his tiny hand. "You're beautiful."

Draco and Harry watched her, but she didn't notice.

"My name is Hermione, but considering it's a mouthful, you can call me 'Mione when you're older. You should feel awfully special since I hate that nickname."

Harry knelt down in front of them, settling a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "This is your Godmother. Don't let her lie to you; her name is Granger Danger." Harry winked at her.

She laughed, watching closely as James' eyes opened. Her head snapped up. "He has your eyes."

Harry grinned ear to ear. "Got 'em from my mum."

"Who's the cutest baby I've ever seen?" Hermione whispered, and James offered a wind induced smile. "You are!" she cooed, tickling his sides, and tilting her head to the side when his hands raised. "Oh, I can't wait to spoil you," she murmured, brushing hair from his face.

* * *

_Fifteen Months Later_

Even though she'd known the trip had been coming for months, there was no curbing the silly smile that curled her lips as she followed him through the corridors of their hotel. The same hotel, might she add, that they had stayed in two years earlier with his parents.

And to think of everything that had changed since then.

"Here we are," Draco told her, pulling her bag from her shoulder. "After you."

Laughing, Hermione followed his motion, bouncing into the hotel room with a grin on her face. "I can't believe you brought me to Paris. We could have had Christmas at home in the flat, you know. We worked so hard on that Christmas tree too."

Her boyfriend bristled at that, shooting her a glare. He hadn't enjoyed assembling the tree, but he'd enjoyed shagging her on the floor below it immediately afterward while murmuring that he loved how the light cut across her body. "Well, about that," Draco unzipped the larger suitcase that he'd brought, it's contents dumping out onto the floor.

She burst into laughter. "You brought a Christmas tree?" Hermione gasped.

He shrugged. "You seemed to be more than a bit upset that we wouldn't be opening presents under the tree."

Hermione crawled onto the bed, sitting in the middle as she glanced around. "You're wonderful."

Draco kicked his boots off, crawling into the bed beside her. He pulled her into his side, sliding his arm beneath the pillows her head rested on. "We'll put it up tomorrow. For now I could really use some sleep."

Hermione's hand rested against his cheek. "Like actual sleep, or  _sleep_?"

He smirked. "Have I ever told you how insatiable you are?" Draco rolled on top of her, taking her wrists and pinning them above her head. "I thought about this the last time we were here, before all the shite happened."

"I might have thought about it," she replied. Hermione's lips slanted against his as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her. "I thought it would have been nice to sneak into your room, or for you to sneak into mine."

"Yeah?" he breathed, kissing down her neck. "Guess we should make up for lost time then."

She stopped talking after that. Hermione clung to him, her head tipping back as his lips moved down her chest. She moaned his name, moving her hips toward him, but he'd long since abandoned her wrists and pushed her hips to the mattress instead.

"Want you, now," she whimpered, tugging his hair roughly.

His voice was not entirely steady when he replied. "Right now? But—"

"Right now," Hermione urged. She ripped his shirt over his head before discarding hers, and reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. "I don't care how."

Draco did not finish fully undressing her before grabbing her, sliding his muscular arms under her legs, and bringing into her lap. He lowered her, sliding into her with one thrust.

She shivered, her toes curling as she clung to his shoulders. "Oh, God," she mewled as he withdrew and slid home again. "Draco!"

He moved slowly against her, torturously slow, as a sheen of sweat covered his chest. "Hermione!" he rasped as her nails scraped against his back. "You'll leave marks, love."

Hermione brought her lips down on his hard, gasping, "Good," she said as he slammed upwards into her. "Harder," she begged, and she trembled in his arms when he did just that.

* * *

The trip was a redo of the first time, and he'd made her a whispered promise to cross the Eiffel Tower off of her list properly this time.

They had been all over the city, from the Louvre, which was still one of her favorites, to several restaurants, and down several roads in search of their next adventure. They had taken several photos, one of them being an ill timed snapshot of Hermione tripping into a fountain and emerging soaking wet.

He had taken great care to strip her once back in their hotel room, slipping into the large bath with her, and being careful to be sure she was warm.

It had been leading them back to the Eiffel Tower all along. The landmark loomed over the city in all of its grandeur. She'd mentioned several times that Draco had absolutely nothing to make up to her, not when she'd spent a large chunk of her life with him by then.

Not to mention that he still thought he needed to prove himself to her everyday.

Her hand was slipped into his as they stood in the lift, raising to the top of the tower. Hermione rushed out of it, going straight for the edge and peering over it excitedly. This time, there was no man who was fighting with his assumed-fiance.

Draco leaned against the railing, gazing down at her. "Better this time?" he asked.

Hermione raised her head, grinning. "Perfect, actually. Unless you have anything utterly terrible to tell me, that is."

He snorted. "Afraid not, just me here. You know all of my secrets by now."

She waved her hand. "I doubt that. Who was your first kiss?"

Draco grimaced. "Pass."

"What? No, you have to tell me now!"

"Theo," he muttered, and she burst into laughter. "It was a  _dare_ , and it's all Ginny's fault anyway!"

She shook as she leaned over the railing. "Would it be in poor taste to ask Theo who is the better kisser, me or you? Though it wouldn't be accurate since I never reciprocated."

He chuckled, far past anything that had happened before by then. "It wouldn't matter. I'm a much better kisser than you."

"As if," Hermione shot back.

"Fine, who was your first kiss then?" he asked, resting his crossed arm on the frosted railing.

"Oliver," she answered easily. "As fun as it is to tease one another, I don't actually care to hear about every person you've snogged, or shagged. I'm sure you feel the same way about me."

"Fair point," he agreed. "I just remembered, I have a conference call in the morning. Would you mind breakfast in bed rather than going to that cafe you like?" He'd taken up working for his father more and more, leaving Lucius more time to spend at home with Narcissa.

She shook her head. "Bed in breakfast while still in my pajamas? Easily done, thank you."

Draco slid a finger through her belt loop, pulling her closer to him. "I love you."

Her face lit up as she closed the gap, pressing her lips to his. "I love you, too," Hermione whispered.

The ice cold railing pressed into the upper half of her back as he thoroughly kissed her, whispering the declaration over and over again.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the last times I'll ever say this, but I can't wait to hear what you thought. Following the epilogue, I do have a drabble to upload for this story, just a short thing, and I may add more drabbles later because there were some scenes requested. I have no intentions of ever writing a sequel because I don't like them, but I'll write the requested scenes. How could I not when you've all be so supportive?


	25. I Open At the Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait. I really was, but I'm ready to mark this as complete. I think there are a lot of things I want to say, but for once I don't have the words. Thank you for reading, for following, for commenting, and for reading this to the end. I know Muggle AU's are not for everyone, and I'm always appreciative to be given the chance. In a few weeks, I'm going to post the alternate outlines on tumblr if you would like to see out of curiosity because this story went through major changes.
> 
> One thing I want to share is that there is one song I've listened to on repeat for the duration of writing of this story: Fourth of July by Fall Out Boy. I don't know why, but it shaped it. Also while writing this Draco, I religiously listened to Shinedown to craft his character.
> 
> This is it. Thanks for being the best readers out of the entire fandom. I know some readers wanted a proposal, but I didn't think it fit for them. Though...I don't think you'll be complaining about that in the epilogue.

 

* * *

Laughter echoed as the reception fell into full swing around her. Fairy lights dropped from the ceiling, and she couldn't look at them without remembering how annoying it had been to climb on top of ladder and string them up. Hermione grinned when Draco grabbed her hand, a smile curving his lips as he twirled her beneath his arm.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear, guiding her across the floor in a slow dance. "I know you were scared this, us, would fall apart. Are you still?"

She pulled back to look up at him. "Is this the place to discuss things? It's a happy day, Draco. We'll talk about it later."

"You have the track record of saying we'll talk about things, and then the world falls out from beneath our feet." His grin was wicked.

Hermione spun into his arm, her back landing against his chest as they swayed. His hand was heavy in hers. She rolled her eyes, threading her fingers through his once more. "Let it go."

He chuckled. "Never. I'm aware of how it's a happy day, so let me make you happy. Are you still scared?" Draco asked again.

Hermione raised her head, her hair slipping from it's chignon, and she could feel Mrs Parkinson's glare burning a hole into her back.  _At least it hadn't fallen during the ceremony._ "I've lived in England, with  _you_ , for well over a year now, Draco. I don't think about it much anymore. Now, sometimes I think that your tendency of leaving the seat up in the loo may make you strangle you in your sleep…"

He was glaring at her with those familiar grey eyes, and he spun her again. She suspected he did it just to see her face light up each time. "Forgive me for worrying," he muttered.

She shook her head. "I'm just surprised that you still think about it is all. I've loved you for nearly two years now, Draco, and I plan on loving you for several more."

Draco gazed down at her, his eyes widening. "I think that was my line."

Her nose crinkled as her head fell back in a laugh. "Was it smooth? Your lines are always ungodly well done. To answer your question, I'm not scared at all."

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Thank God for that. After all, who would want to put up with me otherwise?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Oh, I'm sure several women would once they got a peek at what's under this suit," Hermione replied, laughing through each word. "But I'll still love you when you let yourself go."

"Hey!' he exclaimed. "I won't be letting myself go. I go to the gym five times a week still."

She nodded. "I know. I appreciate it, as you well know. Although I would appreciate even more if you wouldn't cram all of your filthy gym clothes in your gym bag. It's disgusting."

"Isn't this meant to be a happy day? Here you are scolding me about laundry," Draco grumbled, still swaying with her across the room. "I take that back. Pansy would be thrilled to join in on the lecture."

She laughed.

* * *

Hermione's favorite part of the reception was all of the time she was able to spend with James. Though most of everyone had taken to calling him Jamie due to his grandfather making a big show of it if they were in the same room.

While sitting at the head table, Hermione cradled Jamie in her arms. "Who's the cutest baby?" she cooed, sitting him on top of the table. Nearly a year old, he already had a full head of hair. Which Pansy would still complain had been the source of all her heartburn during pregnancy. "You are," she whispered, tickling his sides.

Jamie laughed, throwing his hands in the air.

Draco leaned back in his chair beside her, glass raised to his lips. Clearly, someone was taking advantage of the open bar. "Mother is staring over her like a hawk. She sees you with that baby and you're giving her ideas."

Glancing up, Hermione saw that Narcissa was indeed staring at her with renewed interest. "Well, I'm not ready for having children of my own."

He didn't say anything for a moment. "But you want children?"

"I do." They had never discussed it before, and Hermione wondered if he was about to drop a bombshell that he never wanted children. There were many things a relationship could overcome, but this wasn't one of them.

"How many?"

Jamie's laugh sounding in the background as she bounced him on her leg, she looked to Draco. "I haven't given it much thought, but two? Maybe three?"

"I hope we have a girl first," he said quietly, smirking over the edge of his glass. "Maybe she'll have curly blonde hair."

She'd long grown since her heartbeat speeding up when it came to him, but even so, Hermione beamed at him. "I think I'd like a boy first actually," she murmured. "This one is stealing my heart more and more each day. Aren't you?" Hermione turned to Jamie once more, leaning forward and nuzzling her nose against his.

Draco was watching her quietly. "I hope they're like you." His hand found hers.

Hermione slid her folding chair closer to his and settled Jamie in his lap. Draco threw him in the air a bit, catching him easily laughing to himself as Jamie squealed.

Draco pulled Jamie's shirt up a bit before blowing raspberries on his stomach.

Hermione's heart clenched as she laid her head on Draco's shoulder. "I hope they're like you," she whispered.

Neither of them noticed Narcissa and Lucius whispering to each other, and Lucius begrudgingly pressed several bills into his wife's hand.

* * *

As far as speeches went, Hermione hadn't been sure what to say when it came down to the Maid of Honor speech. She'd scoured the internet, and she'd come up short. Normally having planned ahead, for some reason she hadn't.

Draco told her to wing it.

She wasn't sure it was the best option, so she'd scribbled down several things on a notecard that morning.

She'd lost the notecard somewhere in between wrangling Pansy's mother before the ceremony—which was just as difficult as it sounded—and the reception. By the time she stood at the table, she was well plied with drinks.

"I wrote a speech, but I lost it," she began, drawing a laugh from the crowd. "But as I look at the two of you, I'm not sure it would have done this day, or every moment you spend together, justice. The first time I met the two of you, it was in a coffee shop in the middle of Oxford. I remember it well, as it changed the course of my life. Even then, you were happier than I've ever seen anyone. Harry has this way of looking at you as if you are the only person in the world, and it's been my honor to watch that happen with Jamie since he was born.

"When I met the two of them," she turned toward the crowd, realising against just how many people Pansy had invited. "I chased after a mugger in the middle of the street. Now this is a funny story, but I noticed something after everyone finally caught up with me. Even as they were walking, Harry twirled Pansy under his arm. And it's stuck with me since. It's a joy to watch the two of become parents so you can figure it out for me—" that earned a laugh "—and to watch you get married. I'm so happy to have you in my life, for the rest of my life."

Pansy flew out of the chair, throwing her arms around Hermione's neck. "I love you."

Hermione nodded, her eyes welling with tears. "I love you, too."

* * *

When Pansy announced that she was going to throw the bouquet, Hermione hadn't thought to get in the crowd. Not until Pansy snapped her fingers. "Fall in line, Granger."

She rolled her eyes, coming to stand beside Lavender, who she was sure was going to knock Hermione out of the way to get the bouquet.

Pansy tossed the bouquet over her head, and she threw it  _hard_. Lavender scrambled for the bundle of flowers, only to be tripped by Ginny.

And the bouquet landed against Hermione's chest at the very back of the small crowd. Her cheeks heated up, and she looked for Draco.

He was standing off to the side, and he was grinning to himself as Harry bumped his shoulder. He nodded and whispered something to Harry.

* * *

Hermione sobbed when Harry and Pansy left the church, her skirts dragging along as she didn't bother to pick them up. Mrs Parkinson yelled for her not to ruin the dress as they would have it pressed upon their return.

She stood on the top step with Draco, her hand entwined with his. As the car pulled away, tin cans tied together, Hermione burst into laughter.

Written on the back windshield in was:  _Finally out of sin!_

She thought Mrs Parkinson might have a heart attack, and keel over on the church steps. Even the man to have wed them chuckled to himself.

Hermione turned to Draco. "Hey—" she nudged him "—what did you say to Harry when I caught the bouquet?"

He smirked. His lips slid against her ear as he whispered, "I told him 'I'm going to marry that woman right there.'"

She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears. "It's just that weddings make me cry," Hermione insisted even though she'd never been to a wedding before. "I love you so much."

"Want to go home and practice for that little blonde girl?" Draco laughed breathlessly.

She raised her chin. "We're practising for a little boy with your hair and eyes, but yes. That sounds lovely." Hermione paused. "But only practice. I want to graduate and establish my career—"

Draco pressed his lips to hers, sinking his fingers into her hair. "I know. Don't worry. We have all the time in the world."

* * *

" _Travel isn't always pretty. It isn't always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that's okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind." Anthony Bourdain_


	26. Drabble: Tattoo DPOV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not have any intention of uploading this so soon. If I had known Wanderlust would make it to the finals round, I would have held the epilogue so I could post with the announcement. Link to vote: (please remove all *s)
> 
> ht*tps*:*/docs*.*google*.*com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSejCxg5yHoJ0EAiNXdmO8HEplU5vCWCuyo0ip5ovSO9qWJVhg/viewform
> 
> This drabble is the scene where Hermione gets her tattoo from Draco's POV. I swear that I am really done bothering your emails for a while! I just didn't want to upload with just a note. Please visit the form and see all of the amazing stories and authors in the running.

 

* * *

He'd been to Regulus' shop several times over the years. The first time had been a trip, wrought with the man mocking him for the several tattoos that he'd got at the beginning of university, just a bunch of small tattoos that really weren't deserving of the description 'sleeve'.

Upon realizing just how badly he'd fucked up with Granger, he begrudgingly admitted that he needed to do something about it. It didn't have anything to do with the fact that he was hoping to use the folded piece of paper in his wallet to grow closer to her. It certainly didn't mean he wanted to earn her affections or have her life with him as she had with Theo.

In hindsight, Draco should have realized that was a fruitless effort.

From the second Granger had woken him up, her face immediately heating up when she saw his bare chest, it was bloody difficult to keep his thoughts from straying. Her cheeks were red, and her lashes were dark against her cheeks, and he was irritated because these weren't the fucking things he thought about.

Beside him in the car, she'd been bouncing in her seat. She anxiously fidgeted with her seatbelt and he caught the article she was skimming in her mobile. _How badly do tattoos really hurt?_

He nearly chuckled out loud. Honestly, if she could have her elbow almost shattered, she would be fine. She lifted her head, peering out the window as she normally did. It was impossible to not notice all of her nervous ticks, the little habits that seemed to infinitely draw him in.

If anyone asked him about it, he was sick of it.

Sadly, however, she was enthralling. She chewed her lower lip, and blood rushed to it.

Granger followed him in an awkward silence, shoving her hands into her pockets.

He snorted with laughter as she was nearly scared out of her wits by Regulus. Granger quickly drew all of the attention in the shop without noticing, but Draco closed the gap between them as he noted a man sitting at the edge of the room.

He was eyeing her, taking his gaze up and down her body, and while it wasn't Draco's business—it really wasn't, he told himself—Draco angled himself in front of her, shielding her from any leering.

After Regulus led them to the room, Draco shed his jacket. As he tossed it into the chair beside her, her nose wrinkled at the smell of secondhand smoke. He rolled his eyes, moving the jacket away from her.

She looked as if she wanted to say something about that.

Draco listened while Regulus and Granger discusses what tattoo she would choose. And he waited anxiously to see if the tattoo artist would ask him why he couldn't have waited until his previously scheduled appointment after the new year.

As far as Granger knew, this was the appointment he'd already had scheduled, and he didn't need her asking why he'd lied about it. Instinct, he thought it was. He'd seen the list, and this one had stood out to him the most.

"I just don't want to regret whatever I get," she murmured.

Draco could have mentioned that he'd regretted plenty of his tattoos, which had been from a flash sale for ten pounds, or the ones that Theo and Potter had given him when they split the cost in a tattoo gun.

But he didn't say anything. Really, he was too preoccupied by watching her.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, nibbled her lip, and crossed her legs before uncrossing then once more.

She settled for a Lord of the Rings tattoo. It seemed fitting.

And while Regulus set to work, Granger had grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together while she gritted her teeth.

He grumbled about her holding onto him, but he didn't mind. Luckily, she was too distracted to notice him squeezing her hand back.

He swallowed roughly.

He was fucked.


End file.
